


Just Desserts

by JGVFHL



Category: Lucifer (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Supernatural
Genre: Canon Compliant, Chloe is having significantly less fun, Crossover, Gabriel's having too much fun, Interdimensional Hide-and-Go-Seek goes horribly right, It hits hard, Loki's having too much fun, Lucifer is a bisexual disaster, Multi, Sort Of, Team Trickster, when the gay panic hits
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:34:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 25,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25370209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JGVFHL/pseuds/JGVFHL
Summary: A killer with a sweet tooth keeps leaving candy wrappers at crime scenes, which, in any other case, might have been the oddest detail about it. However, as Chloe Decker looks further, the cases become stranger and stranger. Monkeys killing a man in a locked laboratory? A body appearing without a trace on a busy LA sidewalk? A car appearing out of thin air? Either this killer has serious skill, or there's something more powerful at work here.
Relationships: Chloe Decker & Lucifer Morningstar, Gabriel (Supernatural) & Loki (Marvel), Loki (Marvel)/Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV)
Comments: 49
Kudos: 161





	1. Our Very Own Hannibal

**Author's Note:**

> So this is related to my work Team Trickster Begins, so if you wanna know how Loki and Gabriel started this dream team, check that out. Other than that, the characters are all canon-compliant except for the fact that I don't ship Deckerstar very much so.... :/ Anyhoo, enjoy!

Ben Collerd muttered under his breath an understandable complaint about having to work this late at night. The sleek digital clock standing upright on his desk displayed the miserable numbers nine and forty-five. Ben should be at home, relaxing in front of his fireplace--fake fireplace--not worrying about a series of misfiled reports. His salary wasn't worth this, his thoughts grumbled. Not even an executive's salary. Ben turned to open one of the many black filing cabinets in his large office, momentarily presenting the door with his back. As he rummaged through the papers, he became aware of the prickling sensation up the back of his neck that only appears when your brain notices there's someone watching you.

After a second or two, the feeling faded, and Ben shrugged it off as an overreaction to the lateness of the hour. Far more importantly, the reports he was looking for were in fact missing. He looked again in the folder reserved for that date, but there were six reports when there should be nine. His secretary must have misplaced them, which only added to his aggravation. He turned around and picked up his office telephone, reasoning that if someone had had the audacity to call him at nine thirty at night, then calling his absent-minded employee at nine forty-five was perfectly acceptable. As he stood there drumming his fingers on his desk, waiting for that lout to pick up the phone, the prickling feeling returned. Ben glanced around, trying to ignore his heart rate, which had just spiked.

The phone rang to voicemail, and Ben muttered a curse as he hung up. He'd deal with his secretary _and_ these damn reports in the morning. What was he thinking, coming to the office when he should be in his pajamas and slippers at home? Shaking his head, he grabbed his jacket from off the back of his leather office chair and headed out the door. He had only gotten a few feet from his door when a noise made him stop.

The prickling feeling came back now with threefold strength, making every hair on his body stand on end. As he listened, the noise identified itself as the low, guttural hoots and growls of . . . monkeys? Ben's forehead began to sweat. He suddenly had to go to the bathroom very badly. But he refused, as most men of his age and position do, to give into his body's sensible and usually correct suggestion that he should turn right back around and leave. Instead, Ben followed his ears. He followed that off-beat, primeval chant all the way through his office building and into the adjoining lab building. The lab building? That couldn't be right. Sure, there were some rats and mice in there, but not monkeys.

The noise crescendoed as he scanned his keycard and pulled open the door to the largest testing lab. The hoots became cries and screeches, echoing through the room and through Ben's mind. He covered his ears, but the volume remained the same, as if the unseen primates were inside his head. Or . . . were they unseen? Through eyes squinted in discomfort, Ben looked around the dark room and saw shadows darting around the tables and equipment, moving freely and easily, as if they were swinging through branches. The shadows came closer and closer, and now Ben could catch a glimpse of eyes or the flash of huge canine teeth as the screaming and shrieking grew even louder.

The first stab of pain came when one of the dark shapes pulled his leg out from under him and he hit the hard floor with a jolt. The cacophony of not quite human voices was joined by one horrible, very human scream--just for a brief moment--then it was silenced forever, lost to the chorus of shrieking voices.

~+~

Chloe Decker ducked under the yellow police tape and into the brightly lit lab. The place wasn't anything special, unless you count the swarm of police and the red mess spread across the once-pristine floor. Chloe arched an eyebrow and steeled herself for an inspection. Their lead forensic, Ella, was already crouched on the floor with her camera, snapping away. She glanced up and smiled at her when she stopped over her.

"Hey, Decker."

"What a mess, huh, Ella?" Chloe replied, folding her arms and glancing around at the blood-smeared tables and floors.

Ella stood up, pausing her photography. "Yeah. Gonna take one hell of a time to get this place clean. Can't even imagine."

"Yeah, that's a good way to put it," came one voice from the doorway.

"Typical Daniel, always using someone else's ideas," said another.

Chloe and Ella rolled their eyes at each other. "Hey, Dan," Ella said.

"And Lucifer," Chloe added.

The new arrivals came to stand with Chloe and Ella by the mess on the floor.

"Hello, Detective," Lucifer replied with a smile. "Miss Lopez. Who's the stain?" he asked, gesturing to the mutilated corpse on the floor.

They all considered it for a moment. It was not an easy sight for anyone. The person was in pieces, literally. Fingers were missing, chunks were taken out of the legs, arms, and buttocks. The corpse was thankfully face-down; no one wanted to know what the other side looked like.

Ella shook her head. "His keycard says Ben Collerd, one of the top executives of Peaches and Cream cosmetics company. But we're not gonna get confirmation until DNA comes back."

Dan whistled and rested his hands on his hips. "What happened? Get any security footage?"

"Tech's working on the cameras," Chloe answered, "so we'll get them soon."

"What the hell happened to him?" Dan said. "Not even any fingers left to print, practically. Jesus."

Lucifer glanced up at him from where he was leaning over to look at the body. "Fortunately, I don't think my brother from another mother had anything to do with this, Daniel. Crucifixion takes a lot out of you."

Lucifer's typically off-color and totally random remark silenced the others momentarily. Even though he'd been helping the LAPD for over a year now, no one really got used to his odd nature. It wasn't his fault, not really. Not to say Lucifer hadn't always been ... abnormal, even by angel standards. But being the literal Devil among clueless humans had its moments.

"Thanks, Lucifer," Chloe replied, dismissing the remark. "Ella, got anything?"

Ella once again crouched down so she could point as she spoke. "Well. Cause of death is kinda hard to pinpoint when half of him is smeared across the floor. But, it probably happened around ten at night. Who knows what he was doing here at ten at night. But these marks," she said and pointed out the edges of the wounds on the arms and legs, "they're bite marks."

"Animal?" Dan asked.

"I hope so," Ella answered. "But I couldn't tell you what kind."

Chloe stepped forward and squatted next to her, narrowing her eyes as she looked. "The bites look almost . . . human."

"Ooh, now cannibalism is interesting," Lucifer said, leaning over their shoulders. "In that case, imagine how full someone is after they chowed down on this poor fellow."

Chloe closed her eyes and shook her head. Who knew how she put up with her partner's antics? "Lucifer."

"What?" he said. "It's a good thing, really. I mean if they ate that much, they'll be slow and easy to catch, right?"

Chloe stood up to try to put an end to his ramblings. "Lucifer, it's not cannibalism."

Lucifer shrugged. "We don't know that, Detective. Could be."

"Sure," Chloe replied, lacking the energy to argue further.

"Well, good news." Ella's voice drew everyone's attention back to her crouched on the floor. She had her tweezers out and was holding them up. "We've got some hair. And we can definitely get some dental off these bites."

"Awesome," Dan said. "That makes life easier."

"Perfect!" Lucifer smiled. "Get to meet our very own Hannibal. Finally, an interesting case!"

At this point, Chloe knew there was nothing to be gained from reminding Lucifer that this was likely not a case of cannibalism. Once that man got an idea in his head, he needed concrete proof before it left. Plus, Chloe had an odd feeling about this particular case. An attack this ferocious in a secure cosmetics lab was strange enough on its own, but the bite marks . . . they were something else.

Chloe turned to Dan, shaking the feeling of dread that clung to this place. "Who found the body?"

"One of the lab techs," he said. "Came in a little early for work, and . . . yeah."

Chloe nodded. "Has anyone spoken to them?" Dan shook his head. "Okay. I'll see what I can find out." She turned and headed for the door, leaving Dan and Ella on the scene, and Lucifer following behind her.

"So," he said, "any ideas, Detective? Someone came in the middle of night with a bunch of attack dogs or something?"

"Hardly," Chloe replied, taking off her blue rubber gloves after ducking back under the police tape. "There's no sign of a break-in. That lab was only accessible by keycard, which our vic had. The only way in or out of that lab was through that door."

"Inside job, then?" Lucifer suggested. "Angry co-worker went Very Hungry Hippo on the poor chap?"

"For the last time, Lucifer, this was probably not a case of cannibalism."

"As far as we know," Lucifer countered. He opened his mouth to add more, but Chloe held up a hand. They were approaching the lab tech who had discovered the body, and she didn't want Lucifer's ridiculous theory to spook them.

The woman was being kept in one of the offices until paramedics could come bring her down to the ambulance for a check-up. Someone had draped their coat over her shoulders in lieu of a shock blanket, and she sat curled in on herself in the office chair. She looked up when Chloe and Lucifer entered.

"I'm Detective Decker. I'd like to ask you a few questions if that's alright, ma'am?"

The woman nodded and sat up straighter, tucking strands of her dark hair behind her ear. "I'm Deborah. Deborah Lorenz," she said. "I'm a lab technician here."

Chloe nodded. "How long?"

"Five years, almost. What happened in there?" She looked in the direction of the lab door. "There was so much blood . . ." Fresh tears formed and fell from her eyes.

Chloe walked around the office desk and squatted down in front of Deborah. "We're trying to figure that out, but we need your help, okay?" Deborah nodded, sniffling. "When did you come in this morning?"

"Around . . . seven-thirty or eight. I had a lot of work to do today, so I wanted to get a head start."

"You have a keycard to the lab?"

Deborah nodded. "Of course. All the lab techs do."

Chloe glanced up at Lucifer. That meant any of the lab techs or their acquaintances could have access to the lab. This investigation just got a bit more complicated. "Did you notice anything off about the building when you came in this morning?"

Deborah blinked, wiping her damp cheeks with the heel of her hand. "Um . . . not--not really? Well--" She paused, looking like she had something to say, but she dismissed it and shook her head. "No, it's nothing."

"Maybe not," Chloe said gently. "What was it?"

"Well, see the janitors come at night to clean everything up, so I thought it was kind of strange to find a candy wrapper in the hallway. But I threw it out. I'm sorry, Officer, I didn't know, I'm sorry--!" She dissolved into quiet sobbing.

Chloe pulled a few tissues from the box on the desk and offered them. "Ms. Lorenz, we can still get it. Where did you throw it out?" Deborah took the tissues and dabbed at her overflowing eyes. It took some time before she regained enough composure to point out a trash can at the far end of the hall from the lab door. Chloe smiled at her. "See? No harm done, Ms. Lorenz. Thank you for your help. Paramedics will be here soon to check on you, okay?" Deborah nodded silently.

Chloe stood up and headed for the door, making sure Lucifer followed her out of the office. She found the trash can Deborah had indicated, and, sure enough, there was a lone Snickers wrapper at the bottom. Lucifer bent down to pluck it out, but she grabbed his arm.

"What?" he asked.

"It's evidence," she reminded him, pulling one of her blue gloves out and ignoring his eye roll. "You can't get prints on it." Carefully, she pulled out the wrapper with her glove. "That's weird," she said, half to herself.

"What, a Snickers bar?" Lucifer said. "I'll say. Horrible chocolate."

"No, I mean if this really was from whoever did this, why would they be so careless? Anyone with half a brain knows not to leave DNA or prints at a crime scene."

"Then put out a search for a half-wit," Lucifer said. "We've obviously found one."


	2. Cruel and Unusual

Later, in the afternoon, after the necessary tests had been done on the evidence collected from the scene, Chloe and her team gathered in the conference room to go over all of it. Ella had the television on to display the photos she'd taken at the crime scene, as well as whatever pictures they'd found of the victim or other related parties. Charlotte Richards joined them as well, seated primly at the table with her briefcase in front of her. She had once been the most formidable defense attorneys in LA, but after a recent change of . . . everything, she had become one of the department's lawyers from the DA. Her knowledge of the "alleged" criminals in LA had many times proved invaluable. Lucifer wasn't here right now. He only showed up once they had someone to find or to interrogate.

Chloe began the meeting. "Okay, Ella. What do we have?"

Ella's face lit up in excitement, as it always did when she was telling her theories. "Okay! So, Ben Collerd, one of the top executives of Peaches and Cream cosmetics company." She looked around the room, expecting something.

Chloe shrugged. "And?" She looked at Charlotte, the other woman in the room, but the attorney shook her head.

Ella's face fell. "What you mean 'and'? It's Peaches and Cream! Ugh, never mind. Anyway, they're this _super big_ company, super high ethics standards and all, but I did some digging and turns out they've got some pretty nasty skeletons in the closet." She clicked to the next picture. It showed a news story from a few years ago reporting on Peaches and Cream's ethically questionable use of animal testing.

Charlotte snapped her fingers. "Yes! I do remember this company now," she said with a smile. Then the expression crumpled. "I defended them in that case."

"Hey, you're on our side now," Dan said, trying to make her feel better. "Remember anything about the vic? Was he an executive at the time?"

"Yes, I recall he was," Charlotte replied. Ella clicked through until she found a picture of Ben Collerd. Charlotte nodded. "Yes, I remember him. He was the executive pushing the most for continuing their testing."

Ella scowled. "What a jerk."

"Ella," Chloe said, drawing her friend's attention. "What did the lab have to say about those hairs you found?"

Once again, Ella perked up at the prospect of sharing her findings. "Right. Are you guys ready to have your minds _blown_?" She was met by silence and vague shrugging. "Great crowd tonight," she said, half to herself as she clicked through her slides. "Anyway, I found four distinct hairs at the scene from all over that lab. Got them tested for DNA and . . ." The screen displayed four different pictures. "These are the matches."

After a perplexed moment of silence, Charlotte spoke up. "Primates?"

"Right?" Ella said, a huge smile on her face. "Hella weird! But it's true. Japanese macaque, chimpanzee, lowland gorilla, and baboon. All there."

Dan was skeptical. "Are you saying monkeys killed Collerd?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Charlotte looked just as unbelieving. "Peaches and Cream doesn't use primates in its testing. At least, not since I checked. Do they?"

Ella shook her head. "Nope. Just mice, rats, rabbits. Totally bonkers, right?"

Chloe narrowed her eyes and stepped towards the screen, looking intently at the four images. "Ella, what did you get from dental? Or the candy wrapper Deborah found?"

"Nothing human on dental, and the wrapper hasn't given us anything useful either." She shrugged. "It doesn't make any sense to me either."

Chloe closed her eyes, trying to see another path through this investigation. "Okay, forget the monkeys for a second. What about Ben? What was he like? Any enemies? Maybe someone set this up."

Dan spoke up. "I made phone calls to some of the employees--secretaries, co-workers, the like--to find out. It seems Ben wasn't the easiest person to work with." Chloe nodded at him to elaborate. "I heard a lot about overloading his secretaries and then totally losing it if they failed to complete all of it. He'd call them at home after work was over to yell at them. He'd gone through something like six secretaries in the past three months."

Ella shook her head. "Like I said, what a jerk."

"That's plenty of motive. Did they all have alibis?" Chloe asked.

"Yeah," Dan nodded. "They all had housemates or spouses or friends to confirm their location that night."

"What about the woman who found him, Deborah?"

He shook his head. "She checks out. She wasn't anywhere near the place when her boss bit it. Or got bit, I guess."

Chloe nodded again, already deep in thought. If none of these disgruntled employees did it, then where to next? The customer base was the logical step, but as Ella had mentioned, this was a huge company with a global appeal. Maybe an animal rights activist had sought justice themselves? It seemed unlikely, and the hairs and bites were too well-placed to be purposeful. She sighed through her nose, watching Ella flip through her evidence. Pictures of the hairs. Pictures of the body--gruesome as they were. Dental reconstructions. DNA matches to the monkeys. Pictures of the scene. Pictures from the news of the crowd gathered at the building's entrance, the people just as puzzled as Chloe felt now. What was behind it all?

"I hate to say it," Dan said, "But it's almost like he deserved it."

"Don't fall into the Just World Fallacy, Dan!" Ella warned him.

"The what?"

~+~

"The Just World Fallacy," Dr. Linda Martin repeated. "Also called the Just World Phenomenon. It's the so-called 'logic' people use to justify, in their minds, something bad happening to a bad person, or something good happening to a nice person."

Lucifer, sitting on the couch across from his therapist, cocked his head to one side. "Is that not logical?" he asked.

"Of course not," Linda replied. "The universe operates entirely by chance. The fact that something bad happens to someone is not at all influenced by that person's character or their actions in life. We misinterpret these factors all too often, leading to victim blaming and the Halo Effect."

"The what effect?" Lucifer said, sitting forward.

"The Halo Effect has nothing to do with your kind of halo, Lucifer," Linda said. "It is the effect wherein people overlook a person's flaws because of a few good actions or characteristics."

Lucifer took a second to process this, then sat back again. "Ah."

"Which is why," Linda said, steering the conversation back on track, "it relates to your problem with Cain."

"You're right, it does," Lucifer replied. "See, I really think he's served his time, as it were. He's lived thousands and thousands of years on Earth, unable to die, unwilling to really enjoy anything because it all fades eventually. If that's not 'cruel and unusual punishment,' I don't know what is."

Linda nodded. "Right. Well. He did introduce murder into the world."

"Once!"

"I don't think that's the crucial point here."

"Regardless," Lucifer said, leaning forward again, "I made him a deal, a promise. I said I would find a way to end his curse, be it death or removal, and I will."

"I realize this, Lucifer," Linda said, smoothing her skirt over her legs.

"Now my brother Amenadiel won't remove his handiwork, so I've got to find a way to kill him."

Linda paused. "Amenadiel's handiwork?" she asked. She hoped it didn't mean what she thought it did. And she also hoped Lucifer was referring to killing Cain, not his brother. She liked his brother.

"Oh, yes. He put the mark on Cain, branding him forever."

"And he won't take it away?"

Lucifer paused, rubbing his chin. There was something he was hiding, Linda knew it. "Well," he said eventually, "more like he can't. He's bloody useless without his powers."

"He still managed to save my life," Linda reminded him.

"Yes, of course," Lucifer agreed, "and I am very grateful for that. Finding a new therapist for the Devil would not have been easy." They both smiled. "Still," he went on, "he cannot remove the Mark of Cain from its owner. And even if he could, he wouldn't."

"Why not?"

"He believes it is deserved."

"And you don't?"

Lucifer thought for a moment. "Perhaps at first," he admitted. "But it's been millennia! The man needs some rest. Peace and quiet, a nice life. Or death. I just . . ."

After a span of silence, Linda prompted, "Just what?"

Lucifer sighed. "Don't know how to give it to him."

~+~

Amedadiel stood quietly at the back of Rollo's Chocolatier and Candy Shop, trying not to get in the way as he looked around. Not getting in the way was easier said than done in the little shop, filled floor to ceiling with sweets of all shapes, sizes, and colors. Amedadiel liked chocolate, particularly the darkest kind available, but he wasn't here for himself. He wanted to find something for Linda and Maze--a peace offering after their latest nasty encounter. During his time on Earth, he'd learned most humans liked chocolate and candy, and Maze was so fond of the finer, pleasing things in life. It seemed like a logical solution, but with one catch: Amenadiel was not the best at buying gifts.

He walked over to a display in the corner, showing the different styles, shapes, and fillings for boxes of chocolates, but he shook his head. A box was too cliché. Perhaps if he hand-picked the chocolate inside? But what did they like? He would have to guess, and that made him uneasy. Then he remembered the little glass bowl of candies Linda always kept in her office for clients to eat. Maybe something for them, not her. She would like that. Right? Amenadiel sighed and put his hands on his hips, still staring at the display.

"Tough decision, huh?"

Amenadiel turned to the source of the voice. A shorter man stood nearby, also admiring the display. He already had a lollipop stick poking out between his lips, as well as two bags full of gummy worms and hard candies. Amenadiel smiled and nodded. "I agree, especially when it's not for you."

"Special someone, then?" the man said with a faint smile and a gleam in his eye. "Classy. Can't really go wrong with chocolate."

"Is that true?"

The man shrugged, taking the lollipop out of his mouth. "From what I've found. Is there an occasion you've got coming up?"

"Not quite, no," Amenadiel admitted. "It's more of a peace offering. See, I made a mistake, and now two women in my life are upset with me. I need them to know I'm sorry."

Nodding sagely, the man stepped forward to look at the display. "I understand, my friend. Maybe I can help with the selection?"

Amenadiel gestured to the window. "Please. I'm unfortunately clueless."

"What are they like, these women scorned? Obviously, beautiful beyond measure, you can skip that bit. I mean are they feisty? Laid back? More roller coasters and scary movies or sunsets and walks on the beach, you get me?"

"Well," Amenadiel started, rubbing the back of his neck. "One of them, is, as you say, feisty. She's ... well, sometimes she can be downright hellish. She's a bounty hunter, actually. The very best."

The man with the lollipop nodded, the candy once again in his mouth. "Kay. I'd go chocolate for her. Dark as her soul. And red licorice. The other?"

"Definitely the latter in your descriptions. Very soft-spoken. Kind. She's a therapist, my brother's in fact. If she can deal with the Devil, she must be a saint, right?" Amenadiel joked.

A flash of some new emotion flickered in the man's brown eyes at the word Devil. Amenadiel just caught it, but dismissed it as a trick of the light. "Really?" the man said. "Truffles. All kinds. And butterscotch something. Does that help?"

Amenadiel nodded. "Yes, very much. Thank you, friend."

The man winked. "Hey, no problem, buddy. I promise, you give 'em those, they'll think you're heaven-sent." He smiled once again and walked away towards the counter to purchase his candy.

Amenadiel watched him go, the phrase 'heaven-sent' sticking in his mind. What an odd man, he mused. Must be a coincidence, though. He barely had enough powers to pass as an angel anymore. The man meant nothing by his remark. The angel watched the man push open the door and leave the shop, noticing an odd stillness left in his wake, like, while he had been there, the air had been humming, and was now suddenly silent. Amenadiel stared a while longer before shrugging off the feeling and looking back to the display, now with a plan in mind.


	3. A New Piece

That evening, Chloe sat on her couch in the apartment she shared with Luicfer's sometimes-friend Maze, a blanket around her shoulders and her laptop open in front of her. Her roommate was away for the next day or so, off tracking her latest bounty. It meant some peace and quiet, and no knives flying around the apartment for the time being. Chloe had put her daughter Trixie to bed half-an-hour ago and was now using the rest of her evening to go over this new case. Right now, she had far more questions than answers, and it irked her. So many pieces to this case didn't make sense. Just before she had left work earlier that day, she had received the security camera footage from the lab, and that had made even less sense. It was open on her laptop now, playing for what felt like the millionth time.

Just as before, there was the door opening. Ben Collerd walks in, looking around the room. The first strange thing is the lights, which, according to everyone else in the company, are supposed to be motion-activated. They don't turn on when Ben enters the lab. Even after the lights don't turn on, Ben continues farther into the room, stopping in the middle by one of the lab benches. He claps his hands over his ears and doubles over. Chloe still didn't know what he heard that night. A dark shape flickers across the screen, then the camera footage freezes, and the video ends. Chloe's eyebrows drew together as she narrowed her eyes at the screen. As she had done so many times already, she rewound the video back to the seconds before the shape whisks across the footage, slows the video down to "snail" and hits play.

"What is that thing?" she murmured to herself, shaking her head as she watched the nondescript form move in frames across her screen. There wasn't enough light to see any detail. The tech department had tried all their tricks to find something, but had failed. Whoever had done this knew exactly what they were doing.

Chloe clicked over to the report on the candy wrapper Deborah had found. It had been scanned, swabbed, and dusted within an inch of its life all day, but no one had been able to find anything of use on it. Someone had suggested just throwing it away: it wasn't helping the investigation, so why keep it? Chloe could see the sense in that, but some instinct told her to hang onto the wrapper. She didn't know why, but she felt it would be useful later.

She then clicked over to her email, where Dan had sent her a list of related parties and persons, noting to whom he had already spoken. No one had spoken to Ben Collerd's immediate family. "Guess I know what I'm doing tomorrow," Chloe said. The mention of the time of day made her look up at the time at the top of her screen. Already, it was eleven o'clock. She needed sleep if she was going to speak to grieving family members the next day. That part of her job demanded her utmost attention and care. Hopefully, Lucifer would behave himself.

She quit the various windows and tabs open on her screen and shut the lid, tossing aside her blanket when she stood up to go to bed. She passed Trixie's room on her way, pausing to assure herself nothing was amiss before continuing on to her bedroom.

~+~

"And no mentions of cannibalism," Chloe said, completing her standard "Don't Be an Ass" speech to Lucifer before speaking to next-of-kin. Of course, he didn't know she called it that, and she would keep it that way.

Lucifer nodded after an almost-imperceptible eye roll. "Well, obviously it's not cannibalism if monkeys did it, Detective."

"Still," Chloe said, "don't. Got it?"

"Detective, I have been accompanying you on these little forays for almost two years," Lucifer reminded her. He smiled. "I am more than capable of behaving myself."

Chloe paused at the end of the driveway to Ben Collerd's large suburban home. "Just be nice, okay? These people are grieving."

"Yes, I understand that," he replied. She nodded and turned back up the driveway. Lucifer waited until she was out of earshot before adding to himself, "Quite frankly, not much a loss."

"What was that?"

He looked up at Chloe and put on his disarming smile. "Nothing at all, Detective. Lead on."

Ben Collerd's widow answered the door. She was wrapped in a knit shawl, one hand clutching a ball of much-used tissues. Her face was marked by grief, but she offered a small smile anyway. "Hello."

Chloe showed the badge at her belt. "Hi, are you Kathy Collerd?"

The woman nodded. "I knew you'd come eventually to ask your questions." She seemed resigned to her role here, probably wanting to get this painful process over and move on. Chloe had seen it dozens of times. She stepped aside. "Please, come in." After Chloe and Lucifer entered, she asked, "Can I get you something to drink?"

Chloe shook her head. "No, this won't take long."

"And I'm more than willing to wait for better stuff at home, thanks," Lucifer replied. Chloe elbowed him. "Ow." She glared.

"I apologize for him," she said as Kathy led them to her kitchen and they stood on either sides of the island counter. "Were you at home the night of your husband's death?"

Kathy nodded and sniffed. "I was. I had just gotten up to go to bed when his phone rang. He answered it, had a . . . less than civil conversation, then he hung up. He told me there was something he needed to take care of at work, and he left. I went to bed. And . . . he never came back." She used the wadded up tissues to dab at her red-rimmed eyes.

"Do you know who called?" Chloe asked.

"Curious George?" Lucifer suggested. Chloe once again gave him a warning stare before nodding at Kathy to go on.

"Um, I don't," she answered. "I'm happy to let the police look, though."

Chloe nodded, pulling out her notepad and a pen to mark that down. "Okay, we will, thank you. When you say 'less than civil conversation,' what do you mean?" She remembered Dan's phone calls with Ben's numerous disgruntled employees and co-workers.

Kathy shook her head, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "I—well. Look, I know my husband wasn't the nicest man to work with. He had a short temper, and wasn't always the most considerate."

"So—kind of answers my next question but." Chloe cleared her throat. "Do you know anyone who would ever want to hurt your husband?"

Kathy took a moment to collect her thoughts. "Well. No. I don't know. I . . . guess you could say Ben and I had a bit of an old-fashioned marriage."

"Whatever does that mean?" Lucifer inquired.

"I never asked much about what he did, he never asked anything about what I did. I had dinner ready when he came home, and that kept a smile on his face." She let out a breathless laugh and wiped a few tears away.

Chloe nodded. Old-fashioned indeed. For the longest time, she'd almost hoped marriages like that didn't exist anymore, but leave it to LA suburbia to prove her wrong. "So . . . what do you know about his company?"

"Not much. I heard about the court case a few years ago, but I didn't ask many questions."

Chloe nodded. "I see. Well, thank you for your help. The police will keep you informed of the investigation."

Kathy nodded. "Thank you." She followed them to the door and held it open as Chloe and Lucifer filed out.

Once the door had closed, Chloe shook her head and said, "I can't imagine living in a marriage like that."

"It does seem rather one-sided," Lucifer agreed. "Did those two ever produce anything?"

Chloe squinted at him. "Did they have kids? Yeah, two. They were both out of the country at the time of Ben's death. They're out of the picture."

"You can hardly blame them; a man like that could not have made a very pleasant father."

Chloe rolled her eyes. "And you would know."

"I would, yes," Lucifer replied. "So, if the missus didn't kill him—despite plenty of motive—then are we back to blaming Jane Goodall's pals?"

"No, Lucifer," Chloe said, reaching her squad car. "I don't know why the monkeys are involved, how those hairs got to the crime scene, and a ton of other questions. But I'm pretty sure monkeys didn't kill Ben Collerd."

"Very well. Then what's your latest theory, Detective? You always have one."

Chloe paused, one hand resting on the roof of her car. She had been trying to piece together some kind of story the whole afternoon long. Nothing seemed to fit. The puzzle she had to work with looked like a Frankenstein's monster, with parts from all over, evidence that didn't make sense, and no witnesses to boot. "I . . . look maybe one of Ben's disgruntled employees, or former employees, planted those hairs. To lose the scent."

"Didn't Daniel already speak with all the employees?" Lucifer pointed out.

He had. Chloe knew that. Okay, scratch that. "Then . . . a customer, maybe? Some ill side-effects can spur some nasty resentment."

"What side-effects?" Lucifer asked. "Wasn't the whole point of animal testing to make sure humans didn't feel any ill effects from the products?"

Chloe closed her eyes. "Ugh, would you stop playing Devil's advocate for one minute?"

Lucifer smiled. "Sorry, it comes with the job, darling."

"Then can you stop talking?"

Lucifer looked taken aback. He frowned and stuck his hands in his pockets. "Well, tell me how you really feel, Detective."

With a sigh, Chloe shook her head. "Sorry. I didn't—sorry. This case is just . . . so weird. And I don't like it. I don't mean to take it out on my partner." She smiled at him.

Lucifer smiled back. "That's better. So, back to the station? Or do we have more people to interrogate?"

Chloe nodded. "Right now, I'll see if Ella has anything else on the case, so station it is."

She went to open her door when her phone rang. She pulled it out and answered it. "Hey, Dan. What's up?"

"Chloe, there's been a homicide."

"Why are you calling me, I'm on a case?"

"I dunno, something feels off about this one."

"Are you saying it's connected to the Collerd case?" She glanced at Lucifer, who shrugged.

"Maybe. I dunno, you should look at it."

"Okay, I'll be there in a few minutes," she said, and hung up.

"What does Daniel want?" Lucifer asked her.

Chloe motioned for him to get in the car, which he did. She filled him in as they pulled away from the Collerd residence. "Dan thinks there's a new piece to this case. He wants me to check it out."

"What kind of new piece?"

"I'd guess a pretty bloody one."


	4. A Smashing Success

When Chloe and Lucifer arrived back at the precinct, she was forced to park the car on the side of the street. Other police cars had formed a blockade across one lane of traffic, keeping crowds at bay. Leading with her badge, Chloe pushed her way through to the yellow tape, Lucifer following in her wake. Dan met her there, lifting up the tape so she could duck under it. She took in the scene at a glance. A middle-aged man in a business suit lay on the concrete sidewalk, a dark circle of blood pooled around his head and shoulders. One hand still clutched his briefcase. The man's head had been beaten in by considerable force, and the numerous wounds were still leaking blood.

"That looks nasty," Lucifer remarked 

"Yeah, it does," Chloe said, not really paying attention to him. "What do we know so far?" she asked Dan.

"Victim has been identified as Paul Foreman, one of LA's best defense attorneys. Seems since Char—Ms. Richards has joined our side, he's been taking over where she left off."

Chloe walked over to Ella, crouched by the body and taking photos. She grabbed a pair of blue gloves on the way over. "Hey, Ella."

"Hey, Chloe! Take a look at this guy, huh?"

"What do you know so far?"

Ella stood up. "So far, we know our vic died of blunt trauma to the head, as I'm sure you can see. And get this: he only died maybe half-an-hour ago?"

"Sounds like his law career was a smashing success," Lucifer smiled, peering at the body. Ella was the only one smiling at the joke.

Chloe and Dan looked at each other, ignoring Lucifer's comment. "That's . . . weird," Dan said.

"Yeah. Was his body dropped here?" Chloe asked.

Ella shrugged. "Probably. No one saw anything. One minute, a peaceful LA sidewalk, the next," she gestured to the body, "a bad horror movie."

"Sounds like LA to me," Lucifer said.

"Wait, what? No one saw?" Chloe shook her head. "Ella, that's impossible." This was a busy street, and right outside the police station. How could no one have seen a man's bloody, beaten body dropped in the middle of the sidewalk? Someone had to have seen something. And there were security cameras all over the precinct.

"As impossible as monkeys in a lab, Detective?" Lucifer said.

"Yes!" Chloe put a hand on her head, thinking hard. "Ella, do you know what the weapon was?"

Ella squatted down by the man's head again, moving her camera out of her way. "Some kind of round, blunt object. About . . . four centimeters in diameter? Hard to tell because the body was dropped here; I don't have the context."

Chloe nodded. "Okay. And he was a lawyer, right?" Dan nodded.

"Vengeful client, perhaps?" Lucifer suggested, taking the words out of Chloe's mouth.

"We should check the station security cameras," Dan said. "I'll get tech on that."

"Yeah, definitely. Thanks, Dan." Chloe looked back at Paul Foreman's body. Dan had been right to call her; this murder gave her the same uneasy feeling that finding Ben Collerd's mangled body in the lab had done. "Something's not right here," she said quietly to Lucifer.

"What makes you say that?"

"Why drop the body in front of the police station? If you're a murderer, you don't want the body found, right?"

Lucifer nodded slowly. "True. Unless of course you're seeking attention. Wanting praise for your hard work."

"Well, sure, but..."

"But what, Detective? That tone of 'dot dot dot' was rather intriguing."

Chloe sighed. "The killers who want attention are always weird."

"So are monkeys in a lab."

"Are you ever going to stop with the monkeys, Lucifer?"

He smiled. "No, because your reactions amuse me. And because that theory hasn't been disproven yet, and is still a perfectly valid explanation for Ben's death."

Chloe rolled her eyes. "Right." She turned away from the body to look at the crowd that had gathered around the crime scene. Other officers were already questioning a few people here and there. She would hear back from them all eventually. Right now, she was more curious about what the cameras had seen, so she stripped off her blue gloves and headed towards the doors of the precinct. "Coming, Lucifer?"

"You know, I have been meaning to talk to the lieutenant lately," Lucifer replied.

"You two are getting pretty buddy-buddy," Chloe remarked as they walked. "Did he give you your own assignment or something, or does he just like stealing my partner?"

"No and no. Why? Jealous, are we?" Lucifer smiled.

Chloe shook her head. "No. Just curious."

Lucifer had his suspicions of that, but he knew better than to press the matter. "Right. Well, you and Daniel have fun doing whatever boring things you do."

"They're important, Lucifer."

"Sure, I'm sure they are, but they're still yawn-inducing."

They had walked down to the bottom level of the precinct, where the most hustle and bustle was. Even more so now, with a case right outside the front door. Chloe turned down one way, leaving Lucifer to go to Lieutenant Pierce's office and let himself in. Pierce wasn't there, so he sat down at the desk to wait.

~+~

Lucifer didn't wait long, although he had gotten up and discovered some interesting reading material in Pierce's office. He was once again sitting behind the lieutenant's desk when Pierce returned.

"I didn't realize this agreement of ours forfeited my privacy and personal space," Pierce said, keeping none of his irritation out of his voice.

Lucifer didn't respond to the comment, didn't even look up at the man, just asked, "So what would happen if wild animals ate you?" He looked up. "As in all of you. How would you regenerate? I assume you've tried it. Lions in the Roman circus perhaps?" Pierce met his gaze evenly and did not answer. Lucifer rolled his eyes and got up from the desk, taking his reading with him, so Pierce could sit down.

After taking his seat, Pierce did answer. "It takes a while," he said. "But I do come back."

"How?"

"Bones."

"What if something ate your bones too?"

"There's always something left," Pierce said, raising his voice just a little. "A cell, a molecule. There's always something."

Lucifer nodded. "And I take it you've already tried everything from here?" He held up what he had been reading: it was a Bible someone had left in his office. How it hadn't burst into flames in Lucifer's hands was a mystery.

"Where do you think I went first?"

"The man Himself, yes," Lucifer nodded, looking at the book. "Right."

Pierce pulled some paperwork towards him and started looking through it. "Lucifer, you can't kill me. You might as well stop trying." He had the same resigned tone of voice he'd used since Lucifer had figured him out. He was tired, and it showed, when you knew where to look. Most people chalked it up to a stressful job in law enforcement, or living alone, or any number of other reasons, but they had no idea. After living for so long, it was a wonder Pierce looked as good as he did.

Lucifer flipped through the thin pages of the Bible, made a face, then held it up. "Do you do autographs?" His remark earned what he called the Resting Pierce Face and no other response. He sighed and tossed the Bible into the small trash can by Pierce's desk.

The lieutenant glanced down at it. "You might want to move that before someone who actually cares sees it."

"Why, because it's in your rubbish bin?" Lucifer said. "Don't really feel like it." He stuck his hands in his pockets and stared over Pierce at his desk towards the back wall, thinking. Amenadiel had given the Mark, but couldn't remove it. There was no way Lucifer was asking dear old Dad for help, not in a thousand million eternities. "I wonder . . ." he mused aloud.

Pierce pressed his lips together to bite back a scathing comment that had risen to his mind. "What?" he said, straining to keep his voice neutral.

"Well, suppose there was someone out there more powerful than Amenadiel or myself?"

Pierce set down his pen and folded his hands on his desk. "There's no such person."

Lucifer smiled. "I said 'suppose there was,' Pierce, not 'I know a guy.'"

"And how is an imaginary person going to help my situation?" he asked.

Lucifer shrugged. "I don't know."

Pierce stared him down. "Get out. Aren't you helping Decker with the Collerd case?"

"Yes, monkeys did it. But suppose there--"

"Out. Now."

"Fine." Tugging at the lapels of his jacket indignantly, Lucifer left without another word.

Pierce waited until he was out of sight before closing his eyes and rubbing his face. Of all the people who might be able to get this curse lifted—of all the people, why did it have to be the Devil?

~+~

Chloe has reassembled her team later that day for a briefing on the second murder, this time with Lucifer present, as Pierce had insisted. Ella had the television on and ready to go at Chloe's signal once everyone was ready. Chloe nodded at her.

"Okay. Murder _numero dos_ : Paul Foreman." She clicked to a picture of Paul.

"What?" Charlotte's outburst turned all attention to her.

"Is something wrong?" Dan asked her.

Charlotte looked between Dan and the picture of Paul. "It's just . . . I knew Paul. We worked together, before . . . This is terrible."

Chloe narrowed her eyes, a connection starting to form in her mind. She said nothing about it; she should wait until Ella presented all the evidence. "Keep going, Ella."

The forensic scientist nodded. "Got it. So. Paul Foreman. An attorney—obviously. He specializes in working with the mobs in LA, as well as other organized criminals."

"Alleged criminals," Charlotte added, almost out of habit at this point. She smiled weakly.

"Right," Ella said slowly. "Anyway, he'd had a few ongoing lawsuits against him, one or two criminal investigations that never got off the ground due to lack of evidence."

"Sounds like a horrible person," Lucifer remarked.

Charlotte spoke up. "Only professionally."

Ella made a noise that suggested that might not be quite the case. "I mean. Not really."

Dan picked up the story. "I spoke to to some of the people he worked with. Kinda the same stories as Ben Collerd. Not the best guy."

"Plus, he was defending the mob," Lucifer pointed out. "If actively trying to convince people that the mob is innocent seems like your idea of a lovely person, well. I respectfully disagree."

Chloe held her hand up, silencing the discussion. "Ella, what else? What did the security cams show?"

Ella pulled up the video feed for the outside cameras on the station. "Not very helpful, to be honest." She hit play and everyone watched.

There was the familiar sight of the street outside, people walking back and forth, cars going by at various speeds. Nothing interesting was happening. There was no sign of anything unusual. Suddenly, the screen filled with static for half a second, obscuring the street from view. When the feed cleared, there was Paul Foreman's body, bleeding on the sidewalk. People were already running from it, and several police officers were running towards it.

Ella stopped the video. "That's all they got."

Chloe recalled the frozen feed from Peaches and Cream. "And tech couldn't figure that out?"

Ella shook her head. "Nope. It's just . . . there. Or not there, I guess."

"Go back," Dan said. "Was there a car that pulled up? Maybe they dropped him off."

They rewound the video, but there was no car even close to the curb where Paul's body appeared seconds later.

"Okay. That's not right." Dan frowned, disappointed.

"Nice try, Daniel," Lucifer said. "Maybe the monkeys did it again?"

Chloe glared at him. "What did you get on the weapon, Ella?"

Ella clicked through her slides to the pictures of the injuries. "The weapon was a rounded, blunt object about the size of a small soda can, but I couldn't tell you for sure."

"Where was Paul last seen?" Chloe asked.

Dan answered. "A courthouse. Leaving the courtroom."

"A courthouse?" Chloe looked at Ella. "You said you needed context."

"Yeah . . . so. Is there something around a courthouse that would fit that . . ." She trailed off, thinking. Everyone fell silent for a moment, thinking as Ella was.

Suddenly, Charlotte said, "Of course." All eyes turned to her. "A gavel."


	5. What "Weird Stuff"?

Ella nodded her head and hummed unintelligibly to the music pumping in her ears. She always worked better with a little distraction, usually music. Her brain sometimes got so crowded with stuff, she needed some background noise to keep focused, and these two murders required some serious focus. Music also kept her awake when she was winding down, and that was definitely needed now. Like Chloe, she had noticed the strange circumstances surrounding these deaths, and the scientist in her was aching for answers that didn't involve disappearing monkeys or teleporting dead guys.

What they knew was that Ben was the first person in that lab since the last techs left around five thirty in the evening. Which didn't explain how whatever killed Ben had gotten into the lab that late at night—especially since Ben was the only one around with a keycard to open the door. The security footage was useless. The Snickers wrapper had yielded nothing—not even prints, except for Deborah's. The case looked like a dead end.

Then there was Paul's murder. They still hadn't figured out how he had ended up on the sidewalk outside the police station. The body had shown no signs of fall damage: no scrapes or cuts from the concrete existed. That meant it was unlikely someone had dropped him there, but . . . he was still there. Ella had just gotten the crimson-stained gavel used to murder him, but again, no prints of any use. Now, she faced Mr. Foreman's briefcase. It was black, with gold closures, a lock, and brass-capped corners. Pretty standard for a lawyer of Paul's standing. Being Ella, she had already picked the lock, and now had her camera ready to document the contents should the need arise.

In one fluid motion, she opened the lid to the case and stepped back, camera at the ready. She paused, staring at what lay within the briefcase. Still vaguely nodding along to her music, she snapped a few photos before pulling out her phone, pausing her music, and calling Chloe.

The detective picked up after a few rings. "Hey, Ella. What's up?"

Ella tilted her head, still looking into the briefcase. "So, remember that Snickers wrapper you found at Peaches and Cream?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"I just opened Paul Foreman's briefcase. Guess what's in it?"

"I'm gonna say not legal documents?"

Ella bent down, looking closer. "Nope. Just lots and lots and _lots_ of Snickers wrappers."

"Just the wrappers?"

"Yep. All empty wrappers."

"Have you run prints on them?"

Ella scoffed. "Decker, I just opened this thing and then immediately called you. But, yeah, I'll get some people on that. That's so weird, though."

"Just the wrappers, yeah. That's . . ." Chloe paused. "That's the only connection between these two cases."

"No, there's always Charlotte. Hang on, I'm gonna put you on speaker. Need my hands." She did so, setting the phone down and grabbing an empty evidence bag into which she could unload the wrappers."

"Wait, what do you mean—oh my gosh. Ella, you're right," Chloe said.

"I know, I'm a genius," Ella smirked. "I try to be humble, but it happens."

"Charlotte defended Peaches and Cream and won, meaning they could still use animals for their testing, and she used to work with Paul defending mobs and criminals. That's plenty of motive for a customer or a former client." Chloe sounded less and less like she was paying attention to Ella. She got like that when she was thinking, and Ella was used to it. "I should call her."

"Decker," Ella said, "it's almost six. She might have a date or something planned."

"This is a criminal investigation with her as our only connection, Ella," Chloe replied. "She needs to know that."

"Okay," Ella shrugged. "Don't be mad when she doesn't answer."

She practically heard Chloe roll her eyes. "Thanks for the update. And Ella?"

"Mm?"

"Go home. Eat something, maybe? It's almost six."

Ella smiled at Chloe's habitual mothering. "Whatever you say, Decker. See ya."

"Bye."

~+~

The next morning, Charlotte agreed to an interview. Chloe had informed her of the connection between the two murders and herself, and Charlotte had been more than willing to help with the investigations. Lucifer and Ella stood behind the one-way window in the interrogation room, watching and listening to the discussion Chloe, Dan, and Charlotte were having.

"Do you affirm that you were one of the lawyers in the legal suit against Peaches and Cream cosmetics company?" Chloe asked.

"Yes, I was," Charlotte nodded.

"Who were the other lawyers?" Dan asked.

"One of the other defense lawyers was Paul Foreman," Charlotte said. "As well as Rita Jones and Gavin Dulles. That was our legal team." She had been given enough time to retrieve her file on the case from her DA's office, and here she pulled out a slim packet of paper and slid it across to the two detectives. "This was our final report, with all of our names and signatures."

Chloe took the packet, looked it over for a few moments, and then nodded. "And the plaintiffs?" she asked, passing it to Dan.

"Such a waste of an interrogation room," Lucifer sighed.

"What?" Ella said, turning her head, but not taking her eyes off the trio in the room.

"Just look at them," Lucifer replied, gesturing to the three people. "Civilized. Polite. No threats. No persuasion. Not even a 'good cop-bad cop' routine. Utterly boring."

"Charlotte's cooperating," Ella said.

"If she's going to do that, then why bother using the room? Just ask her over for lunch and ask your questions if she's feeling so cooperative."

Ella shrugged. "Something about a controlled setting, I dunno."

Lucifer squared his shoulders. "Boring," he muttered.

~+~

After finishing Charlotte's questioning, Chloe sat down at her desk to mull over the information she had found. Dan, Lucifer, and Charlotte all stood around her. Ella's Snickers wrappers had come back from the lab, so she was going over the findings.

"So, anything new?" Lucifer asked. "Please tell me you got something out of such a boring interrogation."

Chloe looked at him. "Yes we did. I'm glad you stayed awake long enough to join us." She opened a few files on her computer and pulled together the hardcopies on her desk. "Okay. So, these two other lawyers from the Peaches and Cream lawsuit—Rita Jones and Gavin Dulles—should be looked at. If this killer is really going after people around Charlotte, they could be next."

"I can look into it," Dan volunteered.

"Great, thank you," Chloe said. "There haven't been any cases filed mentioning them recently, but it doesn't hurt to check."

Dan nodded and left for his own desk. Charlotte watched him leave, fiddling with her necklace anxiously. Chloe could understand her worries. Being the apparent center of two murder investigations was overwhelming to say the least.

"Decker!" Ella appeared, holding her folder of lab reports. "It's there again."

"What is?" Lucifer and Charlotte both said.

"On the wrappers?" Chloe asked, standing up and taking the lab reports from Ella's hand.

"Yep. Same weird stuff."

"What 'weird stuff?'" Lucifer repeated, trying to look over Chloe's shoulder at the report.

"That's a connection," Chloe said, ignoring his question. "Charlotte's not the only one."

"Detective, would you please inform us as to what on Earth you're discussing?" Lucifer asked.

Chloe finally looked up at him. "Oh! Yeah. Sorry. So remember the Snickers wrapper Deborah found at Peaches and Cream?"

"The one you wouldn't let me touch, yes."

"Right. Ella analyzed it—"

"And there's all this weird stuff on it," Ella cut in, her face alight with her typical enthusiasm.

"Right," Chloe nodded. "And Paul Foreman's briefcase was full of more Snickers wrappers with the same stuff on it."

"So, I'm not the only connection between the two murders?" Charlotte said hopefully. Chloe didn't blame her for being optimistic here.

"Not anymore, it seems," she said with an encouraging smile.

Ella added her own commentary. "Well. Except for the fact that this weird stuff is completely unidentifiable and doesn't connect the crimes to anyone at all. But yeah!"

Charlotte's face fell. Lucifer finally managed to get Chloe to hand him the lab reports so he could look at them--which he rarely did, but he was intrigued. "Miss Lopez," he said, drawing Ella's attention. "What exactly is this 'weird stuff' made of?"

Ella pulled a face. "About that. It's not entirely clear. Definitely an oil of some kind, but not plant based. More like the oils from a person's hand, which is why I thought they were fingerprints. The smudges of the stuff were even fingerprint-sized."

"But no actual prints?" Lucifer said.

"Nope," Ella frowned. "Not a one! Plus, the chemical composition of that oil stuff is totally funky. I think they found iridium in it?" She shook her head. "You know sh- uh, stuff's got crazy when stardust is showing up at crime scenes, am I right?"

Lucifer looked at her, handing back the folder of reports. "Stardust?"

"Not literally," she said. "Well. Sort of literally. Not the Neil Gaiman kind, the sciencey kind. Iridium is an element only found in meteors, so the fact that it's in this stuff is pretty weird."

"Why are you so interested in shooting stars, Lucifer?" Chloe asked. She meant it as a joke, but she knew Lucifer wouldn't take it that way. He never did.

"Not shooting stars, Detective," he replied. "I'm much more interested in how this celestial metal ended up on Snickers bars."

"So are we all, Lucifer," Chloe said. "So are we all."

~+~

That evening, standing on the walkway above the dance floor of Lux, Lucifer thought, every once in a while taking a drink from the glass in his hand. He found he did his best thinking here. Aside, of course, from Dr. Linda's office, where she helped him find some truly great ideas. Something about the combination of loud music, people's voices, and dim lighting did wonders for cognitive function. Those, and possibly the alcohol. He was still pondering the "weird stuff" Ella had disclosed that morning, and musing that perhaps it was indeed celestial, just not in quite the way she thought it was. Angels rarely left traces of their presence on Earth, because any bits of divinity left here could be dangerous to little, squishable humans. Most commonly, feathers were left behind. Actually . . . there's an idea.

His own wings, like any other bird wings on Earth, had oil on them, to keep them sleek and ready for flying. He could extract some of it and get Ella to analyze it, to see if it matched the stuff on the candy wrappers. But of course, he'd have to explain where he'd gotten it. And what the match meant. And what it said about the killer they were after. Mm. Right. Probably not the best plan, then. He frowned. He was so sure that stuff was divine. He just had no way to prove it.

The room around him was so loud, Lucifer almost missed the sound of his phone ringing in his inside jacket pocket. He probably wouldn't have felt the vibrations either because of the music, but it happened to occur when one song had faded out and another had just begun to fade in. He groaned inwardly when he saw who it was, but answered anyway.

"What now, Amenadiel?"

"Lucifer, I've been thinking," his brother said.

"Yes, so have I," Lucifer said. "In fact, I was just getting some quality think-time in, so this had better be worth the interruption."

"It will be." Why did he have his doubts? "Lucifer, listen. There's something that's been bugging me, and I believe I've figured out what it is."

There was a pause. "Are you waiting for an invitation?" Lucifer asked pointedly.

"No. I have reason to believe one of our siblings in on Earth."

Now that was interesting. "Do you have any idea who it is?"

"No. But I've had this feeling in the back of my mind ever since . . ."

"Since what?"

He heard Amenadiel sigh. "Since I bought chocolate for Maze and Linda."

Lucifer couldn't help but let out a short laugh. "You did what? Oh, brother, that is priceless."

"They liked it," Amenadiel defended himself. "I think."

"You haven't seen either of them since, have you?"

Another pause, longer than the first. "No."

"Oh, dear brother," Lucifer sighed, grinning ear-to-ear. "Well, thanks for the heads up, anyway." He didn't wait for his brother to answer and hung up. So, his theory on divine intervention playing a role in these murders might not be too far off, after all. How he was going to convince Chloe to believe that was its own mystery, but he had time to think that one through. He drained what was left in his glass and started the walk down to the bar for a refill, throwing smiles and winks at various patrons he passed on the way.

He had just set out on the return trip when he actually felt his phone ring again. He pulled it out. "Oh for—what the me do you want now, brother?" he muttered under his breath.

"Luci! Luci, something's happened!" His brother was in obvious distress.

"What? What happened?" Lucifer looked around for somewhere quieter to go, and decided his penthouse was probably the only option this time of night. "I'd like details, Amenadiel."

"A car just ran over a human."

Lucifer sighed, pushing the call button for the elevator. "That happens all the time. Why did you call me?"

"No, it was different, Luci," Amenadiel insisted. "The car—it had no driver."

"Okay, very well," Lucifer said, stepping into the elevator and watching the door close. "I'm listening."

"This man was crossing the street—illegally, I will add—"

"I don't care, I will add," Lucifer cut in. "But continue."

"Then out of nowhere, a car came down the street and hit him. I mean literally out of nowhere."

"'Literally' literally? Or 'figuratively' literally?"

"Literally literally."

"Is the man dead?"

"Very."

Lucifer nodded. A ghost car? Now that might just be crazy enough to count. "Where is the car now?"

"It stopped a few feet away."

"Tell me, do you see any Snickers wrappers lying around? Look carefully, now. In the car, under it. Around the man."

"What? Why?" Amenadiel asked. "Luci, a man is dead, and you're asking me to look for candy wrappers?"

"Yes, I am," Lucifer said, rolling his eyes. The elevator dinged as it arrived at his penthouse. "Just look, alright. It's important."

He heard his brother sigh, but there were no further protests. After a few seconds of silence, Amenadiel's voice returned. "Lucifer, how did you know—"

"I just did. Where were they?"

"In the driver's seat."

"Perfect!" Lucifer smiled. "Stay put, brother, I'm calling the police."


	6. Certainly Fits the Pattern

It was the middle of the night when Chloe's phone lit up and started buzzing. She cracked her eyelids open only to have them squeeze shut again against the bright light. Who would be calling at . . . She pried her eyes open to peek at the clock on her bedside table. At twelve-thirty in the morning! Rubbing sleep from her eyes and squinting as they adjusted, she sat up and picked up her phone. She blinked at the caller ID.

"Lucifer, there had better be a damn good reason for calling me in the middle of the night," she said in a low voice.

"And I'm terribly sorry to do that, Detective," he replied, "but there's been a development with our Snickers Bar Killer."

Chloe closed her eyes, her brows drawing together. "What?" He had named them already. Of course he had.

"You know, the killer leaving 'weird stuff' on the Snickers wrappers at the crime scenes."

"Okay, fine, what?" As dear a friend as Lucifer had become, she would not hesitate to slap him if this was pointless.

"A man just got hit by a car, but the car had no driver, just lots of Snickers wrappers in the front seat."

Chloe paused, her fogged brain still processing what he had said. No driver. Man hit by a car. No driver. Snickers. "Is . . . the man alive?"

"No, sadly. I believe you call it DOA."

"Wait, wait, wait, you're on site?"

"Yes."

"Did you see it?"

"No. My brother did, and he called me, and I called you because it's your case."

Chloe sighed and shook her head. What had her life become? "Okay. I'll be there—where are you? I'll get there as soon as I can. But, Lucifer, there are officers at the precinct. Call them."

"Of course, will do," Lucifer replied.

~+~

In an hour or so, the street was swarming with police and lit up red and blue from their patrol cars. The body and car had been roped off, and the length of the block was quarantined while the officers swept the scene. Chloe had arrived as fast as possible, and was now in the thick of it, standing next to the nighttime forensics officer, Bill, as he snapped photos and made his observations. He was much older than Ella, but his experience made up for her youthful vigor.

"Got an ID?" she asked.

"You're kidding, right?" Bill looked up at her. "You don't know who this is?"

Chloe looked at the body on the pavement. He was around forty, with sandy hair and and a sharp nose, but nothing stood out as identifying. She shrugged. "No. Should I?"

Bill's eyebrows went up a little. "Well, I suppose his movies appealed to a niche audience, but still. It's Sean McKay. A damn shame he's gone, if you ask me."

Chloe vaguely remembered hearing the actor's name out of Dan's mouth at some point. "Were you a fan?" she asked Bill.

Bill's camera clicked a few times, then he stood up and put the lens cover on. "Well, I dunno. I suppose. I've seen all his movies, anyway. Big action pieces, all of them. My favorites were the _Hazard Warning_ films. Wonderful car chases."

Chloe nodded. If McKay was yet a third victim of this Snickers Bar Killer, then he must have some nasty secret or undesirable past. All the others had. Bill was pretty far from a reliable source for that kind of thing, but he might be able to give her a lead. "Bill, do you know if Mr. McKay was involved in any recent scandals?"

Bill paused for a moment. Then he shook his head and headed towards the car to take photos. "I don't follow the drama," he added as Chloe followed him. "The only thing I remember was his divorce a couple months ago."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I saw it in the paper somewhere," Bill said, bringing his camera to his eye. "I didn't read much, though. It's none of my business who marries who and who doesn't."

Chloe nodded. "Yeah, right, of course. Thank you for your help. Oh." She pointed to the Snickers wrappers in the driver's seat. "Make sure all of these are collected and given to Ella Lopez."

Bill nodded smartly. "Will do, detective."

After that, she left the main scene to find Lucifer and his brother. They were standing on the sidewalk having a discussion. They looked up and fell silent when she approached.

"Good evening, Detective," Lucifer smiled.

"Although," Amenadiel added, "it is technically morning."

Chloe took a breath. "Yeah. Okay. Amenadiel. What did you see?" She took out her notepad and pen and prepared to write.

"Well, I was on the phone with Lucifer—I think one of our siblings may have arrived in LA, and our family reunions tend to be . . . heated, so—"

Lucifer put a hand up to pause him. "Sorry, the Detective really couldn't care less about our family drama, brother. So just cut to the death part."

Amenadiel nodded. "Right. I had just hung up when I heard a car approaching, going very fast, too. I looked up, and that man," he pointed to McKay, "was in the middle of the street, crossing illegally. The car hit him, and . . ." He gestured to the scene. "You know the rest."

Chloe nodded, marking down the last words. "And you're sure there was no one in the car?"

"Yes," Amenadiel replied. "I ran over as soon as it happened, but the man was already dead. And the car had shut off."

"Right." Chloe paused, thinking hard. There was always the option of remotely controlling a car. She could check traffic cams to track it, see where it had started. They'd run plates, obviously. "Okay." She clicked her pen closed and put it and her notebook away. "Thank you for the information. If you remember anything else, please call us."

"Of course," Amenadiel said.

"Wait here a little bit, just in case anyone else has questions, but after that, you're free to go home." Chloe turned around to walk back to the car, and Lucifer followed.

"So, any hypotheses yet, Detective?"

"Maybe," she said. "There's always the chance the car was remotely controlled from somewhere else, but we won't know that until tech takes the car apart and I check traffic cams and run plates."

Lucifer nodded. "Logical, as usual."

"Why, were you still hoping for a primate perpetrator?" Chloe said with a smirk.

Lucifer looked at her with a smile. "Very nice alliteration, Detective. See, you have learned a thing or two from me."

Chloe shook her head. "Sure, Lucifer."

~+~

At a much more civilized hour in the day, Chloe and her team were back in the conference room to go over what Chloe had found earlier that morning. They all had cups of coffee in their hands or on the table in front of them. All except Lucifer, who didn't seem bothered by the lack of sleep. Chloe wondered how long would last. This time, it was Chloe with the clicker, showing the others the photos and other evidence taken at the scene.

"So. Murder number three. We now officially have a serial killer on our hands," she began, showing a photo of the whole scene. "Car crash, happened around midnight last night."

"Ouch," Ella said.

"Who's the vic?" Charlotte asked.

"Sean McKay," Chloe answered. "Actor, starred in—"

"The _Hazard Warning_ films," Dan finished before she could. "Aw, man." He shook his head. "What a shame."

"Leave it to Daniel to recognize them," Lucifer remarked. "Clear display of taste."

Dan rolled his eyes. "Yeah, whatever, man. I like what I like. And it's a shame the guy's dead."

"Moving on," Chloe said, interrupting their budding argument. "The car." She clicked to the next picture. "A 2015 Mustang. I checked traffic cams in the area to see where it came from, but I couldn't find it."

"What do you mean?" Ella asked.

Chloe shrugged. "I don't—I couldn't see it. I checked every camera in the neighborhood, but it's not there."

Lucifer spoke up. "What do you mean, it just appeared out of nowhere, Detective?"

"That's impossible," Dan said. "Did you run the plates yet?"

"Yeah," Chloe nodded. "It's registered . . . to no one."

There was a silence following this revelation. Eventually, Ella said, "That's weird . . ."

"It's impossible," Dan said again.

"As impossible as a lab full of primates or a man appearing mysteriously on the sidewalk?" Lucifer offered. Chloe gave him a look.

"I know it sounds crazy," she agreed. "But I don't know what else to say."

"Was the car controlled remotely?" Ella asked.

"Not clear yet," Chloe said. "They're still taking it apart. And I assume you can work your magic on the Snickers wrappers?"

Ella nodded immediately. "Yeah, totally. I'll get right on it."

Charlotte, after keeping quiet for sometime, finally added her voice to the discussion. "Methods aside," she said, "is there a motive?"

Lucifer replied. "Well, if it matches the other two cases, McKay's a dick."

"He and his wife divorced a couple months ago," Chloe said. She clicked through a few photos until a picture of McKay and a brunette woman. "She's Melinda Harrison, they met on the set of the second _Hazard Warning_ film."

"Why did they divorce?" Charlotte asked.

"I haven't found out yet," Chloe said. "I'm gonna go talk to her today."

"If it was nasty, that might be the killer's motive," Dan said, voicing everyone's thoughts.

"It certainly fits the pattern," Lucifer replied.

Charlotte stood up from the table and walked over to Chloe. She held out her hand for the clicker. "May I?" she asked. "I saw something intriguing."

Chloe nodded and turned over the clicker. "Go ahead."

Charlotte clicked through until she found one of the pictures of the crime scene Chloe had shown earlier. The photo had been taken later in the morning and had just been sent over an hour or so ago. Charlotte stepped towards the screen, squinting at the small crowd of people gathered behind the barrier of yellow tape on the sidewalk. "Chloe," she said, "could I see the photos from the other two scenes, please?"

Chloe nodded silently, moving to the table to search through the two file folders on top of it. After a few seconds, she handed three photos to Charlotte, who took them and studied them closely.

"What is it?" Dan asked her.

Charlotte placed the photos on the table, leaning over them. "I've gone over the photos from Paul Foreman's death, and I just noticed a man who was at both scenes, so I wanted to know if he was at the Peaches and Cream case. And . . ." She pointed a manicured finger at the crowd of people gathered outside of the cosmetic company. "Here he is."

The whole team moved around her, peering at the photo. After taking a look, Chloe looked back at the screen. "Yeah," she said, pointing to a face in the crowd. "Here he is."

"He's at all three scenes," Dan said. "Sounds like a suspect to me."

"Absolutely," Lucifer agreed.

"How do we find him?" Charlotte asked.

"Facial recognition? See if he's got a record." Dan shrugged. "We've got our ways."

"Dan, can you head that?" Chloe asked him.

He nodded. "Yeah, I'm on it."

Chloe nodded. She tapped Charlotte on the shoulder to get her to move aside from the photos. "I just need a picture in case Ms. Harrison has seen him." She snapped a photo with her phone. "Got it. Alright. Lucifer, you coming with me?"

"Of course, Detective," he smiled.

"And Ella, you'll work your magic on those Snickers wrappers?"

"Yep! And I'll get you the report on the car as soon as we get it," Ella nodded eagerly.

"Thanks," Chloe said. "And Charlotte, good eye. You just got us a lead."


	7. Is This Seat Taken?

As Chloe had expected, Melinda Harrison lived like most LA and Hollywood elite: that is, she lived on a hill in a big house with lots of trees and too many cars for one person. Chloe parked her patrol car in the loop in front of the house, and she and Lucifer were greeted by a butler or doorman or someone of a similar position.

"Is Ms. Harrison expecting you?" he asked.

Chloe pulled out her badge and showed him. "LAPD, Detective Decker. We need to ask her a few questions."

The man looked at her badge. Eventually, he nodded. "Of course. Follow me." He led them in to a large open foyer, painted pastel yellow and decorated with pale wooden furniture and fresh flowers. "Wait here a moment," he told them, and disappeared through one of three doorways into the rest of the house.

A few moments later, the sound of conversation announced the arrival of others. The butler returned, followed by a woman with long brown hair and cinnamon skin. She gave a courteous smile upon seeing them. "Good morning, Officers."

"Well, technically—" Lucifer started to correct her, but Chloe held up her hand to silence him.

She returned the smile. "Good morning. I hate to bother you at such an early hour, Ms. Harrison."

The woman waved her hand. "Oh, it's no matter. I like getting up early to watch the sun rise. Please, come in." She beckoned with a hand, her teal nails flashing. They followed her through a short corridor to a huge kitchen to match this huge home. She sat down at the island in the center of the room, and gestured for Chloe and Lucifer to do the same on the opposite side. "So," she said, folding her hands on the countertop, "what can I do for you?"

"Are you in touch with your ex-husband Sean McKay?" Chloe asked.

"No," Ms. Harrison replied, her expression hardening ever so slightly. "Those were terms in the divorce."

Chloe nodded. "I understand. So you aren't aware he died late last night after being hit by a car?"

"No." Chloe and Lucifer paused, waiting for her to add on to her reply. She blinked at them. "What else do you want? Tears? I don't think so, Officers."

"Why?" Lucifer said. "Not worth it?"

"Hardly," she answered. "He was awful. There's a reason his PR guy kept the details of the divorce out of the papers and offline. Said it would ruin his career."

"Could it have?" Chloe asked.

"Probably not," Ms. Harrison said with a shrug. "Hollywood doesn't seem to care much about a white actor beating his brown wife these days."

Chloe and Lucifer exchanged a look. "He was abusive?" Chloe said.

Ms. Harrison nodded. "Yep. Denied it to the end, too, the bastard." She curled her lip in disgust.

"I'm sorry to bring it up," Chloe said.

The other woman shook her head. "Don't be. I'm over it. I've honestly never been better than I have the past couple months."

"But you had no idea he died?" Chloe said. That much resentment towards a person was a big motive in a case like this.

"No. I haven't spoken to him since the divorce. I deleted all his contacts. He's not allowed anywhere near me."

Chloe nodded and pulled out her phone. She found a picture of the street where McKay had been hit. She laid the phone on the countertop. "Have you ever seen that car?"

Ms. Harrison peered at it for a few seconds, then shook her head. She tossed a lock of her dark hair over her shoulder and said, "Never."

Chloe used her finger to flip to the next picture. "Have you ever seen this man?"

Once again, Ms. Harrison narrowed her eyes and frowned in concentration as she looked at the picture. "I don't think so. The picture's not very good."

"But you don't recognize him?"

"No, not that I can remember."

Chloe took her phone back and put it away. "Thank you for your time, Ms. Harrison."

"Of course, of course." A smile was back on her face now. "Anything to help, Officers. Oh!" She got up, gesturing to the butler that had led them here. She started speaking in rapid Spanish at him and pointing to the other room. Chloe couldn't follow it, only catching bits and pieces.

Lucifer smiled, however. "Well, how very kind of you, Ms. Harrison."

"What did she say?" Chloe asked him quietly.

The butler had disappeared and returned, now carrying a small wicker basket covered in gingham fabric. Ms. Harrison took it and presented it graciously to Chloe. "Here. I always send guests off with a little something. I made these yesterday. They're cookies, all sorts. You aren't allergic to anything, are you?"

While she had no allergies, Chloe started shaking her head, ready to decline the offer. Then she remembered she hadn't eaten breakfast that morning since arriving at the crime scene, and she hesitated, which was all the time Lucifer needed.

" _Gracias, señorita_ ," he smiled, holding his hands out to receive the basket. She beamed as she gave it over. "We'll be on our way now, yes, Detective?"

Chloe felt her phone buzz in her pocket. After a glance, she nodded, glancing at Lucifer. "Yes, thank you. We just got a lead on that suspect I showed you. Thank you."

Back in Chloe's car, she read over the text from Dan about the suspect. "Okay, so, Dan says the suspect isn't in any database we have, but—" She was interrupted by a cookie appearing under her nose.

Lucifer wiggled the pastry. "Come on, I know you haven't eaten yet this morning. We can't have a hungry detective on the case."

Chloe rolled her eyes, but she took the cookie anyway and bit into it. It was actually really good. She hadn't expected someone like Melinda Harrison to be such a baker, but people were full of surprises. "Speaking of breakfast," she said around her mouthful, "we can't have a decaffeinated detective on the case either." True, she'd had a cup earlier that morning at the station, but the station coffee was basically coffee-flavored water. She needed something more substantial if she was going to be dealing with this insane case all day.

"Absolutely not," Lucifer agreed, selecting a cookie for himself and then covering the rest for later. Chloe sent a quick text to Dan to let him know where they were going and then started the car.

"There's a café on the corner by the station," Chloe said as she pulled into traffic. "They know me, it shouldn't take that long."

~+~

The café was as crowded as was to be expected for this time of the morning in LA. Chloe walked in, Lucifer trailing her, and waved to one of the baristas behind the counter. He waved back with enthusiasm, then beckoned her forward.

Chloe turned to Lucifer. "Wait here, this won't take long."

"Will do, Detective," he replied.

Chloe walked over to the counter and smiled at the excitable employee. "Hey, Jonah. How are you?"

"Great, great," he said. "How's work? Any cool cases? What about the death at Peaches and Cream, huh? Weird."

"Yeah, it's definitely weird," Chloe replied. Jonah had already started making her order without needing to ask her for it. She'd been coming here for a while.

"Really? Tough one, huh?"

"It's . . ." Chloe paused, searching for the right descriptor. "It's certainly different." She noticed someone standing behind her and turned around. "Lucifer, I told you—"

"Yes, to wait, but um . . ." He glanced around, flashing Jonah a smile, and stuck his hands in his pockets. He was on edge.

"What?" Chloe said, dropping her voice.

He leaned forward and also lowered his voice. "Recall the suspect Daniel's supposed to have a lead on?"

"Yeah."

"Right. I think we have a better lead." He inclined his head towards a table by the windows.

Chloe followed his gaze without turning her head. At one of the tables, sitting alone, was a man with shoulder-length black hair and high cheekbones, matching the photo on Chloe's phone exactly. She looked back at Lucifer. "That's impossible."

"Like monkeys in a lab," he replied, almost automatically at this point. She glared at him. "Although," he went on, ignoring her, "I will say the photos you have fail miserably to do him justice."

Chloe blinked at him. "Seriously?" Leave it to Lucifer to point out the serial killer's looks.

Lucifer looked back at her innocently. "What?"

Chloe shook her head. This is what she had to deal with. Joy of joys. "Okay," she said, grabbing her phone, "I'm calling Dan for backup, but we need to make him stay here until we can get him to the station."

"How do we do that?"

How indeed, she thought. They couldn't raise his suspicion and risk him bolting. She glanced at the man at the table again. The table was bare except for a coffee cup, so he could leave at any moment. She needed someone near him at all times if they were going to bring him in. Someone to distract him. . . . An idea came to her. Two years ago, she would have dismissed it in a heartbeat, but things had changed considerably since then.

"Lucifer," she began, "do you think you could keep him distracted long enough for Dan to get backup here?"

Lucifer glanced between her and the suspect. He smiled. "What sort of distracted?"

Chloe rolled her eyes at him. "Public indecency is a crime, Lucifer."

"So that's why society is crumbling," he remarked. She smacked his arm. "I was joking, Detective! Of course, I shall behave myself."

"You are impossible," Chloe said. She hit the button on her phone to call Dan and waved her free hand at Lucifer to shoo him away.

~+~

Lucifer smiled at Chloe's exasperation at him. He tugged his jacket straight and checked his cuffs to make sure he looked his best. Fortunately, distraction was a specialty of his, thanks to his devilishly alluring aura, which, if his remarkable intuition on human attraction still served him well, would be more than enough for this particular situation. He strolled over to the table by the window and set a hand on the back of the empty chair opposite the man sitting there. The man looked up, revealing piercing blue-green eyes.

"Is this seat taken?" Lucifer asked with a smile.

The man regarded him, a glint of amusement in his gaze. After a moment of contemplation, he gestured to it and said, "Be my guest." His voice almost matched Lucifer's in pitch and was marked by a similar accent.

As he sat down, Lucifer added, "It seemed a shame—someone as obviously charming as yourself sitting alone."

"It never occurred to you I might be sitting alone for a very good reason?"

"Of course it did," Lucifer answered lightly. "But now I'm curious: why exactly should I leave you alone?"

The man blinked. He was unusually difficult to read, unlike most of the people Lucifer met. In fact, he reminded Lucifer of Pierce in that way. "Typically, the history of violence and homicidal tendencies turn people off pretty fast," he said.

Lucifer nodded. "Naturally."

"Not you, it would seem."

"I tend to disregard blatant signs of danger."

That silenced the man momentarily, and Lucifer couldn't quite read what was going through his head. That was still odd. "Of course." He said it in a resigned tone, reminiscent of the one Chloe used with him. After a pause, he added, "What do I call you?"

"I'm terribly sorry," Lucifer said, "where are my manners?" He extended a hand to the man across the table. "Lucifer Morningstar. You are?"

The man arched an eyebrow. "I don't shake."

Lucifer withdrew his hand. "Fair enough." He was about to ask again for a name when Chloe appeared, showing the badge at her hip. "Hello, Detective."

"Hi," she said, focusing her attention on the man sitting across from him. "I'm Detective Decker, LAPD. I'd like to ask you a few questions."

The man looked at her, the same expression of faint amusement reappearing on his face. "I suppose you'd like to know about Ben Collerd, Paul Foreman, and Sean McKay?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus the crossover begins....


	8. Have A Little Faith

During his time on Earth, which, Loki should admit, was far from extensive, one thing had remained constant: humans were always jumping to conclusions. It didn't bother him too much after this long. It actually amused him more often than not. This detective was amusing, for example. So serious and full of conviction, when she had no idea who he was. Her "partner" was a different story. Loki had only expected to find one angel in this world, and now he'd found two, including the Devil himself.

He had agreed to accompany the detective to the police station to answer questions about the three men who had been killed recently. There was nothing to hide, so there was no point in being uncooperative. Plus, Lucifer still intrigued him. It was fairly clear that Lucifer didn't recognize Loki as anything other than human, although that was laughably wrong. That alone was amusing enough to humor their little investigation.

The detective—Decker—and Lucifer sat across from him at the table in one of the interrogation rooms at the station. The room was stark, vaguely grey and blue, with a one-way window in the wall to Loki's right. Decker had a notebook open in front of her and a pen poised to write.

"So," she began, "why don't we start with your name?"

Normally, Loki hesitated to give his name to people he didn't know, but he figured a different world was far enough from those who would try to find him. "Loki," he said. "Odinson."

"What is that, Scandinavian?" Lucifer asked as the detective wrote it down.

"Norse, actually."

Decker looked back up. "You seem to have an idea of why we brought you in. You've been at three separate crime scenes. Care to explain that?"

Now time for some creative storytelling. Luckily, that was a talent of his. "Actually, I'm looking for the same person you are." Decker shook her head faintly. "The man behind these odd murders."

"The Snickers Bar killer, if you will," Lucifer added with a smile. Odin's beard, that angel was something else. Good-looking, but a hazard to the world. Most angels were like that.

Decker silenced him with a glance. Despite being human, she held considerable power over him. Loki wondered if she knew his true nature. "Why?"

"He's my assignment," Loki said, expanding his little story. "Before he was killing people over here, he was killing people where I'm from. I was tasked by a bereft loved one with his capture, and I followed him here."

Decker raised an eyebrow. She was rightfully suspicious. "Are you part of an organization, or is this a freelance thing?"

"Oh, freelance. I can't stand structure." It was probably best to keep things vague as long as he could.

"We're going to have to call your employer," she said.

"Of course." He pulled out his phone, or one of them, at least, and opened the contacts. With barely a thought, he magicked a new one into existence. "There. Wellmington." He slid it across the table to the detective. Loki had thought his magic might alert Lucifer to his very not human nature, but apparently this angel was supernaturally blind and deaf. It was a wonder any of them had survived.

She tapped the number and held the phone to her ear, always keeping an eye on him. Growing a bit bolder, Loki happily used his magic again to manufacture a voice at the other end. "Yes, hello. My name is Detective Chloe Decker with the LAPD in California. Are you the person who hired a Loki Odinson to track down a murderer?" After a moment, she nodded. "I see, thank you very much, ma'am. I'm sorry for your loss." She hung up and handed the phone back. "Okay. So far you check out, Mr. Odinson. Can I ask where you were during the three murders?"

Loki blinked. Oh, right. He'd been seen at three different murder scenes, and no one knew anything else about him. Of course he was a suspect. "Yes, of course." She nodded at him to continue. "First one, Ben Collerd. I was at the theater, watching _All My Sons,_ Arthur Miller's play. In fact," he said, and took a wallet out of his pocket. His ticket wasn't there, but he easily summoned it to him and handed it to the detective. "There's my ticket. Second, Paul Foreman. That was, what, a day ago? Two?"

"It was yesterday, around ten o'clock in the morning," Decker answered as she wrote down his first statement.

"Ask the morning receptionist at my apartment building," Loki answered. "I was leaving around then."

He gave her the phone number, and Decker wrote that down too. "And last night? Around eleven-thirty, twelve?"

Telling the truth that he had been snooping around back alleys in search of someone was probably the wrong kind of alibi for this particular situation. But he hadn't been snooping around the back alleys nearby to the accident, so they couldn't really fault him for that. "Do you have a map?" he asked.

"Why?"

"So I can point out where I was."

"Even if you show us, can anyone confirm it?" she asked.

Loki sighed. "Not another person exactly," he said, taking out his phone. "I was taking photos, you can check the time and place there." He passed the phone to Decker then leaned back in his chair. "Feel free to add any contacts you'd like."

Decker raised an eyebrow at him—she was clearly used to people saying that. "No thanks."

"Ah, sorry," Loki said, "I was talking to him." He pointed to Lucifer.

After the second it took for the remark to register, Decker closed her eyes, suddenly looking very tired. Lucifer, meanwhile, displayed quite the opposite effects; he smiled and sat up taller, smoothing down the front of his jacket and vest. It was amusing to no end. Loki had never encountered an angel as easy to bait as Lucifer. This world must not have many threats for him to be this dramatically on display. Although Loki did appreciate the dramatics.

"Thank you very much," Lucifer said, eyeing Loki's phone now.

Decker held it farther away from him. "No."

Lucifer looked at her with indignation. "Detective!"

"We're in the middle of an interrogation, Lucifer."

"And we've just established he's not the killer. I don't see what the problem is."

Decker glared at him, and handed Loki's phone back to him. "We're also still solving this case, so I don't need you getting distracted."

"Little too late for that," Loki said. He'd have to be blind to miss the glances Lucifer was throwing in his direction.

Decker exhaled sharply through her nose and once again glared at her partner. It was effective in keeping him momentarily silent. "Okay. What can you tell us about this killer?"

"So you're accepting my help?" Loki inquired.

"I'm willing to hear what you have to give me," she replied. "Or else I'm calling the FBI to come take care of this serial killer."

"Very well," he said. "I assume you've picked up on the impossibility of these killings."

Lucifer took a breath to speak, a small smile already on his face, but Decker held up a hand to stop him. "I don't want to hear about the monkeys, Lucifer." Her partner closed his mouth, looking disappointed that he hadn't gotten to speak. "Yeah, the killings are weird," Decker continued, talking to Loki now. "But there's always an explanation."

"True," Loki said. "You're entirely correct, Detective. There is always a perfectly reasonable and usually quite logical explanation to this particular criminal's actions." He'd added that last bit to watch Lucifer's reaction. He wasn't lying per se; divine powers were a reasonable and logical explanation, but not the one humans usually jumped to, as he knew Decker hadn't. Lucifer rolled his eyes and sat back in his chair."I take it you've noticed the pattern among the victims?" Loki asked.

"Yes, they're all rather dickish in nature," Lucifer answered.

Chloe opened her mouth to filter his response, but Loki beat her to it. "Exactly."

"Wait what?" Decker said, apparently shocked that Lucifer's crude watering-down of the case was correct.

"This killer, his--I believe you'd say _motus operandum_ is finding those who need to be reminded of their mortality and their place in the world, and then killing them in horribly yet slightly amusing ways."

"Like beating a crooked lawyer with a gavel?" Decker asked.

"Precisely."

"Why the candy wrappers?" Lucifer asked as Decker wrote down what Loki had said.

"A signature," Loki said. "It's Snickers in this city, it was Twix in the last. Always candy. Apparently the killer has a sweet tooth. Speaking of said candy wrappers," he added, "there's been an odd residue left on them, hasn't there?"

Decker nodded. "Yeah, actually. We don't know what it is."

"No one does," Loki lied. He knew exactly what it was. "It just confirms we're after the same killer."

Decker finished writing in her notepad. "So how do we catch him?"

Loki sat forward, resting his forearms on the table. "That, unfortunately, isn't so easy. So far, all I've figured out is waiting."

"For another body to drop?" Decker said. Loki shrugged. "Can't we narrow down his possible victims? How does he choose them?"

"Follows the news, probably."

"It's not personal?" she asked, and Loki shook his head. "So, in theory, we could pick a number of possible hunting grounds and station officers there?"

"That's a way to do it, yes."

Decker thought for a moment, then stood up. "We need the team on this," she told Lucifer. "Come on. You too," she added to Loki.

He followed her out of the interrogation room, across the floor, and into a glass-walled room containing a long table and a television mounted to the wall near where Loki came to stand. A meeting room of some kind.

"Wait here," Decker told Lucifer. "And don't do anything stupid," she added in a quieter tone with a glance in Loki's direction.

"I won't, Detective," he assured her. "Have a little faith in me, please."

She shook her head and left, a smile forming on her face.

"You don't find that ironic?" Loki asked once the door had closed behind her. He'd come to the conclusion that Lucifer should know his true identity wasn't a secret to him.

"What?" Lucifer replied, putting his hands in his pockets.

"Telling her to have faith? You are you, after all."

Lucifer tilted his head ever slightly—what all angels did when confused or curious, as far as Loki had seen. "What do you mean, I'm me?"

Loki smirked. "I think you know exactly what I mean, Lucifer."

The Devil stared at him, a different sort of smile hovering on his face. It wasn't as blatantly charming as the ones he had previously displayed. He was intrigued, and it showed in the gleam of his remarkably expressive eyes. "So how did you figure it out?" he asked. "I hope for your sake you haven't met my brother. I'm far more interesting between the two of us."

"No, I haven't met any others of your kind here, yet," Loki lied. "As for figuring it out, I have a knack for finding the unusual."

"But not this unusual?" Lucifer said. "Mysterious monkeys, luckless lawyers, vexing vehicles. Any other alliterations?"

After a moment to process the Devil's fascination with wordplay, Loki said, "No, I think you've covered them all. Quite well, actually.


	9. I Don't See A Problem

Chloe returned to the conference room with Ella, Charlotte, and Dan. When she entered, she was pleased to find Lucifer and Loki still the same distance apart as when she left them. Charlotte stopped and stared at Loki.

"Isn't he the suspect?" she asked, pointing to him.

"Not anymore," Chloe answered. "He has alibis. They all check out." Charlotte thought for a few seconds, then sat down, still wary. Ella and Dan remained standing. "Okay, we have some new information on this killer, and I think I have a plan to catch him without waiting for another death."

"New information?" Dan said, regarding Loki with the most suspicion out of everyone. "From this guy?"

"'This guy' has a name, Daniel," Lucifer said.

"Yeah, so do I, Lucifer," Dan said. "And I told you it's Dan."

"Guys," Chloe cut in, silencing them."Try to hold it together, please." Dan and Lucifer went quiet, so she continued. "Anyway, yes, from him. This is Loki Odinson. He's been tracking this killer for a private client, and he's willing to share some of what he's found."

"Wait, you mean this guy's been killing outside of LA?" Dan asked. "Since when?"

"Since a few weeks ago, actually," Loki answered. "England."

"Do you have a suspect?" Dan furthered. "A name we can go on?"

Loki folded his arms over his chest. "Unfortunately, he has an extensive number of aliases, effectively able to disappear after leaving a city. So, no."

"So we're on a timer," Chloe said.

"Yes. Probably another, oh, three or four days?"

"How do we stop him?" Charlotte asked.

"I have a plan," Chloe said. It wasn't perfectly formed yet, because it has just come to her in the last five minutes, but it was better than Loki's idea of waiting for someone else to die. "We know who his victims always are."

"Selfish pricks," Lucifer answered.

"Basically, yeah," she had to agree. "So if we can figure out his hunting grounds, we might have a chance of finding him before another body drops."

"Do we have a description?" Ella asked. "Or are we just guessing which guy in the crowd is our perp?"

"Oh," Loki said, taking out his phone. "My apologies, I forgot. There is one sketch we have, from his second crime across the pond." He gave the device to Chloe.

Chloe studied the sketch. The man depicted might have looked jovial if he weren't a known serial killer. She passed the phone to Charlotte, the closest person to her, to pass around to the others. "Great, thanks. So, we just need to figure out where he'll find his next victim."

"I believe I can help with that," Lucifer said, a little hesitantly. Everyone looked at him. "Well, this killer has a grudge against the rich and horrible, yes?" Everyone nodded.

"Are you volunteering as bait?" Dan asked.

Lucifer gave him a forced smile. "No, I am not. However, I was recently invited to a gala that will be full of the rich and absolutely despicable."

Chloe looked at Loki. "Does that sound like him?"

"Sounds perfect," he answered. "He loves places like that--he loves an audience, when he can get it."

"Great," Chloe said. She looked back to Lucifer. "How do we get in?"

"Invitation, as usual," Lucifer said. "But unfortunately, only the immediate family of guests are permitted, and I hate to say it, Detective, but we don't exactly share a familial resemblance."

"She can be your wife or fiancée," Charlotte pointed out.

Ella spoke up. "You should bring Loki."

"I beg your pardon?" Lucifer said, Loki's expression matching the question.

Dan glanced at Ella. "No, she's right."

"It's a good idea," Chloe agreed. "Loki knows this killer better than any of us, so we need him on the inside."

"He could be Lucifer's brother," Charlotte suggested. "They look alike, they sound alike."

"Yeah," Chloe nodded, looking to Lucifer and Loki for their reactions. "Sound good?"

After a brief pause, Loki said, "Well, it'll be amusing if nothing else."

Lucifer, realizing he had lost this debate, gave a courteous, if not quite genuine, smile. "Very well, Detective."

"When's the gala?" Chloe said.

"Tonight, in fact," he answered. "Dinner included, starts at seven."

"Great. Dan and I will meet you guys around six-fifteen," Chloe said.

~+~

True to the plan, Lucifer met Chloe and Dan at quarter-past six to go over proceedings. They met in a parking lot behind the building next to the one hosting the gala, so the large blue van Chloe and Dan were using wouldn't attract attention. Chloe and Dan would stay here during the evening until Lucifer called them in. When he arrived, Chloe immediately handed him an earpiece so they could communicate while he was inside. Probably his least favorite part of these undercover missions. At least this mission was an excuse to spend time at a formal event, which happened to be one of Lucifer's favorite kinds. The other kind he wasn't allowed to mention in polite company, according to Chloe.

"Where's Loki?" she asked, checking her watch.

"On his way," Lucifer answered as he adjusted the earpiece.

"How do you know?" Dan said.

In response, Lucifer took his phone out from an inside pocket in his jacket and showed the screen to Dan and Chloe, displaying the text Loki had sent him earlier that evening. Chloe folded her arms and gave him the look. The look she had when he did something she had told him not to do, like get Loki's number.

"What?" Lucifer said, returning the phone to his pocket. "Am I not allowed to text people, Detective?"

She sighed. "No, you're right. Your social life is not my problem--for the most part. Just . . . stay on task tonight?"

"Can't imagine a reason why he wouldn't do that." Loki appeared on Lucifer's right, rather suddenly.

Lucifer looked at him. There were a lot of reasons. Many, many, many reasons. He didn't know where to start, which was unusual. Of course, his suit was impeccable—Lucifer would have expected nothing less based on their limited interactions. It fit perfectly, tailored to the highest standards of fashion Lucifer knew. Then again, this man could have worn the most hideous clothing under the sun, and it wouldn't change the fact that he was stupidly handsome. What had first caught Lucifer's attention upon meeting were those clever blue-green eyes and cheekbones sharper than some of Maze's torture instruments. Those, and the effect created by the black and white of the suit with Loki's pale skin and jet black hair, combined to quite a breathtaking impression.

"Lucifer!"

Lucifer blinked, turning his attention to the annoyed detective glaring at him. "Mm?"

"Did you hear anything I just said?" Chloe asked pointedly.

Truthfully, he hadn't heard anything at all. ". . . No."

"Of course not." She shook her head and sighed. "What Loki and I were discussing is that he won't wear a bug, so you two--

"What? Why?" He turned to Loki. "Why?"

"Because I don't want to, and your _detective_ has no jurisdiction to make me."

Lucifer couldn't argue with that. Chloe continued, a little peeved, and rightfully so. "So you two have to stay together all night so Dan and I can keep track of you both."

He nodded. "Don't let him out of my sight, got it."

"Believe me, it won't be difficult for him," Loki said.

"Yeah, I believe it."

~+~

Lucifer and Loki stood in line, waiting to be admitted to the gala, behind dozens of other formally dressed guests. Chloe had been in constant contact with Lucifer since they arrived inside the event center. He could understand Loki's aversion to having someone's voice in your ear every second—Chloe could get a little overbearing when she wasn't in the middle of the action.

"So how far away from you do I have to stand so she can't hear me?" Loki asked him, keeping his voice low enough so the other guests wouldn't feel a need to listen in.

"Farther away than that," Chloe answered before Lucifer could get a word in.

"Farther away than that," he repeated in reply to Loki's question. "Why do you ask?"

"Because I prefer not having people listen in on my conversations," Loki said, "but I suppose I don't have a say in the matter."

"No, I'm afraid not."

Loki glanced around briefly, then dropped back and walked behind Lucifer to his other side. "Any better over here?" he asked.

"What was that?" Chloe's voice asked.

How clever. "Absolutely nothing of import, Detective," Lucifer replied with a smile.

Loki matched the expression, but it quickly faded back to his customary neutrality. He did it quickly. "I think this plan has a gaping error in it."

Lucifer cocked his head to one side. "How so? I don't see a problem with it."

One corner of Loki's mouth curled up in a half-smile. "That's because there's not a mirror in front of you, Lucifer."

"How am _I_ the problem?" Lucifer asked, a little indignantly.

"Oh, don't be too offended," Loki told him, glancing around at the other guests. They were almost at the front of the line. "I can see you're more than capable of convincing the average human of whatever you'd like, and I respect that. Between the two of us, this plan really couldn't be in better hands."

Lucifer made note of the phrase "the average human," but he didn't show it. "Thank you very much," he said.

"However, please recall that our story is we're supposed to be brothers here."

"I fail to see the point of the reminder," Lucifer said.

Loki regarded him skeptically. "I highly doubt any of your siblings get nearly as much _visual attention_ from you as I have in the past fifteen minutes."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Lucifer said, which was utterly false.

Loki arched an eyebrow. "How many buttons are on my waistcoat?"

"Six, why?" Lucifer replied without hesitation, realizing the trap too late. ". . . Ah."

"That's why," Loki said, a tiny smile again pulling at one side of his mouth. There was now only one couple ahead of them in line. "Not to say I mind it, because I don't, and in any other circumstances I might be guilty of it myself. However, the man we're supposed to be tracking successfully eluded the undercover operation attempted in England; he knows what to look for. So you either have to keep your eyes to yourself, or we need a new story. Understand?"

Lucifer nodded. "With remarkable clarity." It was difficult to refuse a request when it was worded so well. Inadvertently, his eyes drifted from Loki's eyes to his mouth.

"I take it we're changing the plan, then?" Loki said, evidently noticing the subtle movement.

"Probably for the best, yes."

"Wait, what are you talking about?" Chloe asked. "Lucifer, what's going on?"

He and Loki had arrived at the front of the line. He took out the pair of tickets and handed them to the man at the door, adding a winning smile for good measure.

"Mr. Morningstar, welcome," the man said, taking the tickets and putting them in a box on the table next to him. He then picked up a pen and offered it to Loki, saying, "If your guest would just sign in here." He gestured to a book on the table, where numerous signatures represented other guests at the gala. Loki signed it quickly and handed back the pen. "Thank you very much," the man said.

"Of course," Loki said, nudging Lucifer's arm to make him walk forward.

"Simple as that," Lucifer remarked.

"You guys are in?" Chloe asked him.

"Yes, without so much as a ripple," he replied.

"Perfect. Make sure you keep us updated on what's going on. No randomly going dark on us, got it?"

"Yes, fine," Lucifer said, keeping his voice low so no one around them heard a one-sided conversation.

Loki tapped his arm to get his attention. "I probably should have told you this earlier," he began, which didn't sound good, "but there were too many people around." Lucifer glanced at him quizzically. "It's about this man we're tracking. He's um . . . Well, he's not exactly human."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...so I have too much fun with these characters, as I hope you can appreciate.


	10. For A Human...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loki really likes messing with people.

The gala, which had a name Loki hadn't bothered to remember, was being hosted in a ballroom below a hotel. A huge, open place, with a crystal chandelier at the center suspended over a long table where, eventually, food would appear. Loki planned to be long gone by that point. The chandelier was the main source of light in the room, leaving much of the outer edge of the room in semi-darkness. Round tables surrounded the center, all covered in maroon cloth, cleanly set, and decked with a bouquet of roses and several small candles. Overall, it seemed too big a place for the number of people attending. There was too much empty space in the room, and it irked Loki. But he couldn't worry about that, because Lucifer was staring at him like he had three heads.

"Not exactly human?" Lucifer repeated.

Loki sighed. "Just . . ." He glanced around, looking for something normal to do. His gaze settled on the open bar at one end of the room. "Come get a drink, I'll explain on the way." He knew Lucifer wouldn't refuse alcohol, and he was right.

"While you're explaining things," the Devil added, following him through the maze of tables and people, "what exactly is our 'new story?' If it's not brothers?" Loki was about to answer, but Lucifer was talking again. "No, everything's fine, Detective."

Loki couldn't resist. When there was enough room, he fell into stride beside Lucifer, on the side where he knew Decker could hear him. "The other plan fell through; Lucifer kept staring at my ass."

After a brief pause, Lucifer said to him, "I believe that was a facepalm I just heard."

Loki smirked.

"So what is our new story?"

"Simple," Loki said. He show Lucifer his left hand, and the silver band that glittered on the third finger. "We're engaged."

Lucifer blinked and stopped walking abruptly, nearly causing a waiter to run into him from behind. The waiter shot him a glare and continued on their way. "You've got to be joking."

Loki said, stopping as well. "I thought you'd like the idea. You don't have to keep your eyes to yourself, and no one will question it."

Lucifer defended himself. "I don't stare that much!" Loki raised a skeptical eyebrow. Lucifer huffed. "Not even the Detective is on my side anymore. Fine. Engaged it is." They picked up their journey towards the bar, Loki once again switching sides so Lucifer's earpiece wouldn't pick up his voice. "What were you saying about our killer earlier?" Lucifer asked.

"Oh, yes. He's an angel."

"What?" For the second time, Lucifer's pace came to a screeching halt as he stared at Loki.

Loki grabbed his arm and forced him to keep walking. "Don't stop like that, you'll cause an accident. And yes, you heard me correctly: he's an angel. A rather powerful one, actually."

"So is that how you figured me out? All the information you've got on him?"

"Essentially." Although, Lucifer certainly didn't do much to conceal his identity in the first place. "He uses his power to cause those impossible crime scenes your Detective couldn't quite figure out."

Lucifer almost stopped a third time, but Loki anticipated it and dragged him the rest of the very short way to the bar. "So there really were monkeys in that laboratory!" he said with a huge smile on his face.

Loki shook his head in amazement, but couldn't help the tiny smile forming on his own face. "What, does that win you a bet or something?" This angel was something else, alright.

"No, but it won't make the Detective very happy to know I was right."

"You enjoy pushing her buttons. The detective's, I mean," Loki remarked while they waited for one of the bartenders to notice them.

Lucifer shrugged. "All in jest."

"Oh, of course. I do the same to my friends. Well, friend. He's . . . not unlike you, now that I think about it."

Lucifer smiled. "I highly doubt the similarity's that striking. I am Lucifer, after all."

They were briefly interrupted by one of the bartenders coming over to take their orders. Once she left, Lucifer made some quiet note comparing the assumed quality of the drinks here to the kind he kept back at Lux. Loki recalled it was a nightclub several blocks across town.

"You act alike," Loki said.

"Pardon?"

"You and my friend," he clarified. "You act alike." Lucifer tilted his head, wanting to know more—honestly, was that just some basic angel coding, consistent throughout space and time?—so Loki elaborated. "Fond of nightclubs and associated amenities, particular taste in alcohol, similar sense of humor, apparently drawn to me like a moth to a flame, and, oh yes, flirts with everything that moves."

"I do not—"

"Yes, you do, no point in fighting that losing battle, Lucifer."

The bartender returned with their orders, and Loki and Lucifer thanked her in perfect unison. She gave an amused smile before going back to work. Lucifer cleared his throat and distracted himself by taking a sip of his drink. Loki studied him, a curious smile on his lips. He'd just made a fascinating discovery.

"I don't think I've ever seen an angel do that," he said.

Lucifer glanced at him, then back at the glass in his hand. "What, drink? Clearly, you haven't spent enough time around me."

Loki scoffed. "Believe me, every other angel I've met has done that," he said, turning to face Lucifer. "No." He leaned forward, closing the gap between them to mere inches. "You're blushing." He was, and Loki pointing it out only made it worse, much to Loki's amusement. "It's cute," he added, and tapped Lucifer's nose with his finger. It made the angel jump, which was immensely entertaining.

~+~

Lucifer didn't like this. Normally, he was the one invading people's personal space, and having the situation reversed—well. It was unexpected. And he couldn't make up his mind on anything to do about it because there were no complete sentences left in his head. Fortunately, Loki backed off, with an infuriating smirk on his face, and picked up his martini glass.

"Did he actually make you blush?" Chloe asked. He could hear the smile on her face. Wonderful. Just wonderful. Now he'd have her to deal with as well as Loki.

"That was unnecessary," Lucifer said, to both sources of irritation.

"Sure, Lucifer," Chloe replied. "Just keep looking for the serial killer."

Loki's reply was a lot less gracious. "Which part? Pointing it out? Invading your personal space? Or was it the—I believe it's called a 'boop?'"

Lucifer stared at him, and a little voice reminded him he'd been doing that a lot, but at least it wasn't Chloe's voice, so he ignored it. He had to admit, Loki was unlike anyone he'd ever met. He had the oddest air about him, but every time Lucifer thought he'd figured out what it was, it changed. It was intriguing to say the least, and he was getting more and more curious the longer he spent in Loki's presence. Even his typical instincts weren't giving clear instructions now: Lucifer couldn't decide whether to punch him or pin him against a wall.

Arriving at a decision was postponed by a waiter in their vicinity announcing that the event was officially starting, and that all guests should take their seats, please. Lucifer reached into an inside pocket of his jacket to retrieve the slip of paper the man at the door had handed him. It had their table number on it.

"Table seven," he said. "Shall we?"

Loki hesitated, scanning the room through narrowed eyes. "No," he said eventually.

"I beg your pardon?"

Again, there wasn't an immediate reply. Loki sipped his drink pensively, then abruptly moved to Lucifer's side—the side away from his earpiece—and grabbed his arm. "Better idea," he said, tugging Lucifer towards the edge of the ballroom.

Lucifer had little choice but to follow. "Why are you grabbing my arm?"

"We're engaged, remember?"

It had almost slipped his mind. "Right, and where exactly are you taking me?"

"Somewhere more out of the way," Loki answered. He stopped when they reached the shadows of the outskirts of the gala. "This angel we're hunting," he continued, keeping his voice low, "he knows me. I was part of the team that almost got him in London, so if he sees me at a table, he'll bolt."

"We don't even know that he's here," Lucifer pointed out.

"He is."

"Oh. Wait, how—?"

"I have my ways."

That created more questions than answered them, but Lucifer set those aside for later. "So we know he's here?" That was for the Chloe.

"Wait, he is?" she asked immediately. "Where? Do you guys need backup?"

"But we don't know _exactly where he is_ ," Lucifer added.

"Then go look," Chloe told him.

"The Detective is getting insistant," he reported.

"Then start walking," Loki said, once again taking his arm and nudging him forward. "I can find him, but I need to see every table in here."

"How does that work?" Lucifer asked. "You look at someone and you can tell if they're an angel or a human?"

"Pretty much," Loki said, his eyes never leaving the sea of round tables at the center of the ballroom.

Lucifer's brows drew together in thought. He'd never heard of such an ability. "That's . . . impossible," he said. "At least for a human."

Loki turned his head to look at him, a small smile on his mouth and a gleam in his eyes. "For a human, yes," he agreed. "That leaves an interesting explanation, doesn't it?"

Yes it did. A slightly unnerving one as well. "So . . . what exactly—if you're not—"

"What am I, if not human?" Loki finished for him. They had reached the first corner of the ballroom. "Let's see. In terms you'll understand . . . I'm a sort of an extraterrestrial, I suppose you could say? Not an angel, not a demon. And definitely not part of your Father's creation."

"An alien?" Lucifer clarified. Loki shrugged, going back to scanning the faces of the guests at each table. "So, wait—is this your real appearance?" Lucifer asked.

"More or less," Loki answered. He looked over at Lucifer's quizzical expression. "What, worried you've fallen for a lie? Don't worry, what you see is what you get." He paused to deposit his now empty glass on a small table nearby for a waiter to find.

"What the hell are you guys talking about?" Chloe asked Lucifer. Loki's revelation had taken his mind so far off task he'd almost forgotten Chloe could hear every word coming out of his mouth.

"Nothing you need to worry about," he assured her, knowing she would not be assured.

"Have you found our guy yet?" she demanded.

Lucifer forwarded her question to Loki. He answered, "Not yet, but I have a feeling we're getting close," which Lucifer relayed to Chloe.

Suddenly, Lucifer noticed something that he probably should have noticed a while ago. "Why are you still holding my arm?"

Loki turned to look at him with the most sincere display of false innocence he'd ever seen outside of a mirror. "Would you prefer I hold something else?" And Lucifer didn't trust himself to say anything after that.

They kept walking until they reached the second corner of the room, where Lucifer found a place to put his now empty glass. Loki hadn't made any sign of seeing their intended target, and still hadn't released Lucifer's arm, although he had sort of grown used to it by now. Out of the blue, an idea occurred to him. Why it hadn't earlier, he didn't know, but he absolutely had to try this.

"May I ask you a question?" Lucifer said.

"Ask away," Loki said, but he was still looking at the round tables in the center of the room. Hoping it would get Loki's attention, Lucifer stopped walking. It worked, and Loki finally let go of his arm. "What?"

Lucifer trained his gaze and his power on Loki, prying as far as he could into his unconscious. "What would you say is your deepest desire?"

Loki stared back, a small gleam of amusement in his eyes. The effects weren't as instantaneous on him as on the average human, but Lucifer expected that. Eventually, Loki smiled. He clicked his tongue, moving closer to Lucifer. When he was close enough, he placed a finger over Lucifer's lips. "Not in polite company," he murmured. "Although, that's a neat trick."

Well, that wasn't supposed to happen.

Loki hummed a quiet laugh at Lucifer's reaction. He moved his finger from Lucifer's mouth, carefully tracing a line under his bottom lip. "You know, I like you," Loki said, his eyes following his finger's path. "You amuse me." His eyes flicked up to meet Lucifer, who was feeling a sudden surge of empathy towards deer staring at car headlights. Then he looked away, his head turned as if listening to something behind him. "Found him," he said.


	11. Sorry to Interrupt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S GABRIEL TIME

Loki took his hand away from Lucifer's face, likely much to Lucifer's relief, because he looked like he was about to fall over. The sheer panic of his face had been fun to watch, though. Loki turned his attention to table seventeen, where he had sensed their angelic target. Sure enough, there he was, grinning ear-to-ear, having a grand old time, really. Loki couldn't tell if the blonde woman sitting next to him was his date or just another hapless victim of his odd charm. Loki heard Lucifer mutter something under his breath, probably to the detective in his ear, as he came to stand next to Loki.

"Was your detective entertained by your rare and short-lived state of speechlessness?" Loki asked.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Lucifer replied with a bitter edge in his voice.

"So yes?"

"Shut up. Where's the other angel?"

Loki pointed him out. "Table seventeen, next to the well-endowed blonde."

Lucifer nodded. "Ah. Well, I can respect his choice of company if nothing else." Loki did his best to conceal a smile. If only Lucifer knew the man's other choices of company, he might not be so thrilled. But that was for later. "So how do we apprehend him?"

"We draw him out to a more controlled envi—" Loki started to explain, but just as he did so, table seventeen, as well as tables sixteen, eighteen, and fifteen around it, was dismissed to go up to the long buffet table beneath the crystal chandelier, causing momentary chaos wherein he lost sight of the target. "Damn."

"There he goes," Lucifer said, pointing to two figures scurrying through the shadows at the outskirts of the room, aiming for a red exit sign.

Loki broke into a light jog to follow them, leaving Lucifer will little other choice but to do the same. Luckily, the guests milling about the floor had drawn all the wait staff away from the edges, giving them a clear shot to the door where the man and woman had disappeared. When they arrived, Loki stopped so suddenly Lucifer almost knocked him over.

"What?" he demanded.

"You go first," Loki said, stepping to one side of the door.

"Why?"

"He knows me, he doesn't know you." He stopped himself from mentioning magic just in time.

"That's been your excuse for everything!"

"Well it's true! He won't be expecting the Devil, now hurry up, we're losing ground."

Lucifer made a dramatic gesture of an indeterminate meaning, and pushed open the door, Loki following. The door led to an alleyway, complete with piles of trash and an overflowing dumpster. It was still relatively light out despite the time, but the sun was sinking low over the skyline, a blaze of orange over the jagged buildings. Loki looked around and saw nothing, and neither did Lucifer. Then he heard it. From the far side of the dumpster came the sounds of two people starting to enjoy their evening maybe a little too much. Lapses of silence between giggles and the occasional gasp or moan. Loki reached into his jacket and pulled out a knife with a twisted bronze blade.

Lucifer pointed at it. "Where the hell was that?" he hissed.

"You might have found it if you'd been a bit more adventurous," Loki whispered back, just to see Lucifer's reaction. He did not disappoint. "It's also the only thing that can kill him," he added. "And probably you too, so be careful." Then he handed it to Lucifer.

"What—?"

Loki pushed him towards the dumpster. "Like I said, you first." Lucifer turned on him, utterly indignant. "Don't worry, I'm right behind you, it's fine," Loki said, and waved him off again. After another offended glare in Loki's direction, Lucifer set off towards the source of the noises.

Loki did follow him, like he said he would. The only reason Lucifer was going first was to give them the element of surprise. Their target would recognize Loki's aura a mile away, but not so much if the Devil was in the way. They crept closer and closer until they were right along side the blue metal of the dumpster. Lucifer paused and glanced back at Loki, who nodded at him. Brandishing the knife Loki had given him, he stepped out around the corner of the dumpster.

"So sorry to interrupt, but we need to ask you a few questions."

Loki heard a familiar voice reply, "Who's 'we,' Old Scratch?"

This was, of course, the perfect dramatic timing for Loki to step out as well. "Hello, Gabriel."

The man they were searching for was standing in front of the blonde woman Loki and Lucifer had seen sitting next to him. She looked scared out of her wits, which was understandable, considering the situation. The man—might as well use his name—Gabriel was less intimidated, more intrigued, and was regarding Lucifer with the utmost curiosity. But when Loki showed up, he broke into a smile.

"Heya, Lok." He turned to the woman behind him. "Probably best if you go back in, okay?" Loki stood back and let her run past him to the door. "So, you finally found me, Loki."

"Indeed."

"Took you long enough," Gabriel said, brown eyes twinkling. "I was worried you'd forgotten or given up."

Loki smiled back. "Hardly."

"But the Devil," Gabriel went on, gesturing at Lucifer, "was not someone I ever saw you working with. Although, when he looks like that, I'm not really surprised. How'd you find him?"

Lucifer answered, still pointing the knife at him. "I found him, actually, and how do you know who I am?"

"Because it's written all over your pretty face," Gabriel told him. "Kay? I'm an angel, you're an angel. I speak angel. You might as well be wearing a name tag that says 'Hello, my name is Lucifer.'" He looked at Loki. "He does go by Lucifer, yeah?" Loki nodded. "Right. Wait. Why are you two working together in the first place? Why is he even here?"

"Because you're under police investigation for three murders, and I happen to work with said police, that's why," Lucifer said.

"What, those three pricks? You should be thanking me. They were dicks of the highest degree."

Lucifer faltered, but went on. "That's—that's not the point, although I happen to agree. The point is, murder is a crime, and therefore punishable."

Gabriel almost laughed. "I'm an angel! What are they gonna do to me? Lock me up? _Please_ , I can teleport."

That cut Lucifer's quick replies short for several seconds. "Since when do angels eat Snickers?" he finally asked. "And leave the wrappers with weird stuff on them all over the crime scenes?"

"Because I like candy, and that 'weird stuff' is holy oil," Gabriel replied scornfully. "What kind of angel doesn't recognize holy oil?"

Loki had to bite his lip to stop a smile. He'd definitely missed Gabriel's quips, but he could tell they were just annoying Lucifer, and Lucifer did have an archangel blade in his hand. The argument needed to end before it escalated. "Perhaps there's a way to compromise," he said while Lucifer was stunned into momentary and slightly offended silence. "Find a way every one gets what they want."

"Which would be what exactly?" Gabriel asked.

"Lucifer and his detective partner need this cased closed and a killer behind bars," Loki said. "You and I need to leave."

Lucifer's focus instantly went to Loki. "You don't want him behind bars?"

"No, he's my friend. We're roommates."

"Housemates, really," Gabriel corrected.

"The whole private investigator, assignment thing," Loki said, making a gesture referring to the story he had woven for Decker and Lucifer, "was mostly . . . not true. But I have been looking for him for a few weeks."

"We're playing inter-dimensional hide-and-go-seek," Gabriel explained.

Several seconds of silence followed all of this as Lucifer tried to connect all the dots, but he wasn't doing it very well. "Does this even kill you?" he demanded, holding up the archangel blade. "Or is this just some trinket from an antiques shop from the seventh dimension?"

"No, no—that, yeah," Gabriel said, hurrying over his words. "That definitely deadifies me, especially in your hands, so please don't come near me with that."

Lucifer blinked, his face still showing his complete lack of understanding. "I'm so confused."

"And as adorable as that is," Loki said, taking the knife from him before anything bad happened, "why don't you go by the street and wait for your detectives while I talk something out with Gabriel."

"I am not adorable," he insisted.

"Of course not," Loki agreed. "And you're not blushing again either." Both were blatant lies.

Lucifer stuffed his hands in his pockets and huffed. "I really wish you'd stop doing that."

"It's not my face turning red."

Lucifer didn't reply. He just turned around and started walking towards the street at the end of the alley. Once he was out of ear shot, Gabriel let out a laugh he had been holding in for several moments.

"Oh my Dad," he said, "he has no idea what to do with you, does he?" He shook his head in amazement, watching Lucifer walk farther and farther away. "That's funny. That's damn funny."

Loki smiled at his friend. He hesitated briefly before asking, "So how are we going to do this?"

Gabriel's cheerful expression remained and he shrugged nonchalantly. "Dunno. Don't really care as long as I'm not arrested. Me and cages aren't the best of pals.

"I know," Loki nodded. "Still . . . the case needs to be closed, is all, and having some sort of conclusion is better than an open end."

"The case needs to be closed, huh?" Gabriel repeated, folding his arms and leaning back against the wall of the building. "Yeah that's baloney. You and I both know you don't give a rat's ass about this case."

"So?"

Gabriel rolled his eyes. "So?" he replied, mocking Loki's false innocence. "Yeah, uh-huh. What you want is for me to do all the heavy lifting and all the magicking and all the little tricks so this whole adventure has a nice neat little bow on top. I do all that so _you_ can get pounded into the third dimension by an alternate universe version of my brother."

"Well, you don't have to word it like that."

Gabriel shook his head. "Oh, I'm gonna word it however I want; it's in the best friend contract you signed. But seriously--I am your best friend in the entire multiverse and I'm currently playing second fiddle to your—" He never finished the sentence. "You've gotta be kidding me."

"It's not like you've never done the same to me," Loki pointed out. "You left me to take down an entire werewolf pack on my own once because you were too distracted by Sam Winchester to pay attention to my prayers for help."

"He only had one layer of shirt on! Do you realize how rare that is?"

"Thirteen werewolves, you moron!"

"Okay, fine!" Gabriel said, finally giving in. "Fine. Fine, fine, fine, _fine_." He held up his hands in surrender. "But this better be worth it," he added, pointing at Loki. "Drunk or sore, you better not be walking in a straight line tomorrow, you get me?"

The condition raised Loki's eyebrows, but he nodded nonetheless. "I think I can arrange that."

The sound of voices made the two friends look down to the end of the alley, where the two people had appeared with Lucifer. One of them Loki recognized as Detective Decker, but as for the other, he was new. The two police officers had their guns drawn, although they would be useless against their intended target. Gabriel and Loki watched the approach with some interest.

Gabriel stuck his hands in his pockets and shook his head. "Of all the worlds I could end up in with your dumb pan-saster ass, it had to be the one with the annoyingly good-looking disaster bi Devil. Figures."

"At least you're not related to this one."

"Thank Dad for small miracles."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Team Trickster with all of my heart. Loki needs a friend. I deliver.


	12. Officially Unmarked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remember when Cain was a plot point? I almost didn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen, I liked Pierce. A lot. Initially, of course; later season had its issues, but I have plenty of issues with the plot choices of Lucifer anyway. But I felt like he needed this. Also it was a gaping plot hole in the initial version of this story, which is why it took me two months to put this up. 😬

Gabriel flexed his fingers and wrists, careful to keep his angelic strength at bay so he wouldn’t break the handcuffs so graciously provided by the blonde detective. He still didn’t like this plan, but he’d work with it. Loki was his friend--his best friend--and he had to keep to that. The aforementioned blonde detective had a firm grasp on his shoulder as she and her partner walked with him through the police station. Loki and Lucifer had stayed behind. More like he wanted a head start on his evening.

He was guided down a set of stairs to a lower level, full of desks and evidence boards. “Cozy,” he remarked. He eyed the doors he could see, wondering which one led to holding cells. He was not looking forward to one.

“Oh, it gets cozier,” the male detective replied.

As they passed a closed office, Gabriel caught a glimpse of a man at an important looking desk doing important looking paperwork. The door said Marcus Pierce, Police Chief. Pierce looked up as they passed, and Gabriel couldn’t resist a grin and a little wave at him.

“Keep walking,” the blonde detective said, pushing his shoulder forward.

“Oh, careful, there, Supergirl,” he said.

They led him to an interrogation room and cuffed him to the table unceremoniously. He kept up his smug little facade, although the cuffs were starting to set him on edge. He sat alone for a while. Probably hoping that letting him stew would get a confession out of him that much faster. Honestly, he was perfectly fine with confessing and getting this over with as quickly as possible, but they hadn’t exactly asked his opinion on the subject.

After several minutes to himself, the door opened.

Marcus Pierce, Police Chief, sat down across from him, setting a folder down on the table.

There were the usual seconds of silence as they assessed each other. “You know, I had a brother with your jawline once,” Gabriel remarked. Gadreel’s last vessel had had quite the adamantium bone structure. Gabriel had always been a little jealous.

Pierce stared at him flatly. “‘Once?’ What happened to him?”

Gabriel pulled a brief scowl. “Ah, poor guy. Offed himself in prison.” He clicked his tongue sadly. “You let a snake into a garden  _ one _ time, and no one lets you forget it, you know?”

“Yeah, I know the feeling,” he replied.

Wait… really? “That usually goes over people’s heads.”

“I’ve been in the business a while. I hear a lot of weird stuff.”

“No kidding.” But now Gabriel was curious. There was always a reason people brushed off Biblical references like that, and where Gabriel was from, it was because they had been part of it. But here…. He trained his powers onto Pierce’s person, looking for anything not human that stood out to him. At any rate, he could put up with Lucifer waltzing around the place--oh well there was a method. “What’s it like having the Devil solve a case like this?” Gabriel asked. “I mean, isn’t that your job? Isn’t that like, the opposite of his job? Does he have a job?”

“I’m sorry?”

“The Devil.”

Pierce’s gaze sharpened on him. After a long moment of scrutiny, the police chief pulled the folder on the table towards him and cleared his throat. “What’s your name? Might as well get this started. We’ve got plenty of aliases, but maybe one of them is actually real.”

The long moment had shown Gabriel exactly what he needed to see. Somewhere in Pierce’s humanity, something was different. Gabriel had spent so much time among gods and demigods and monsters and Winchesters that sometimes he overlooked such small anomalies, but he’d caught it. This… Pierce person was human, certainly. But he had the aura of immortality about him. There was a tiny seed of magic at his core. He was human, but he had been human for a very long time. It couldn’t be a coincidence that Lucifer, the angel Amenadiel, and this oddly inhuman human were all in LA in this universe.

“Gabriel. I’m Gabriel.”

“Gabriel what?”

Gabriel’s mouth turned up at one corner. Time for some fun. “Gabriel the archangel.”

Pierce sighed. “I already deal with one Biblical lunatic in my office, I really don’t need another. Your name?”

“Well, I could give it in the original Hebrew, or Arabic, or Enochian, if it makes you feel better. Or you could ask the two humans in the magical mirror room behind you to leave, and we can have an actual chat.” He once again flexed his wrist in the metal cuff, testing to know exactly how fast he could snap it and be free.

The man across from him drummed his fingers on the table once, still looking monumentally tired. Gabriel knew that living for millenia had that effect. Finally, he said, “Decker, Espinoza. I’ve got this covered.”

Gabriel’s enhanced hearing told him when the two detectives had left the side room. “So how old are you?” he asked when they were gone. “A thousand years? Two thousand? You look great.”

“For someone claiming to be the messenger of God, I would have thought you’d be better spoken.”

Gabriel scoffed. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard that. “Puh-lease. The prophets back then took some serious creative liberties. ‘Amen I say to you: be not afraid?’ It was more like ‘Hello--stop screaming--no, really, stop.’”

There was a flicker of a smile on one side of Pierce’s face. “And you know who Lucifer Morningstar is? What he is?”

“A flaming dumpster fire of a bisexual. But you meant the other thing that he is.”

Pierce blinked. He understood. “Do you know who I am?”

Gabriel leaned back as far as his cuffs would allow. “I’m still working on that, if I'm honest. You’re human--as in you’re not an angel or a demon or anything else. But you’ve lived  _ way _ too long to be  _ human _ human.”

“Really? A human cursed with immortality doesn’t ring any angelic bells? How many of me are there?”

Interesting. Cursed with immortality. “In my defense, I’m technically not  _ this _ world’s archangel Gabriel. I'm visiting from a different universe. It’s like… same story, different production team. Your team made dear Luci a well-intentioned piece of eye candy.  _ My _ team went with an annoying jackass who hates humanity with a burning passion. And mine’s blond.”

That silenced Pierce, as it had silenced Lucifer, though Pierce managed to maintain composure where the Devil had failed. Then again, Pierce didn’t have Loki flirting with him on the side. But after a long pause to process Gabriel’s outburst, he said, “So you’re actually an angel.”

“I am the most powerful angel. Because where I’m from, all the other competitors are dead.” He frowned. “That sounds like I killed them. I didn’t. Even though I am here for ridding your world of three terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad humans.”

All things considered, Pierce was taking this rather well. He flicked the edges of the folder distractedly, still staring at Gabriel. “So does your world have a specific human cursed with immortality?” he prompted, still dropping hints to his identity. “One might say  _ marked _ .”

Marked… oh. Oh. Gabriel hadn’t been intimately involved in the whole… Abel debacle, truthfully, but he had heard about Dean Winchester taking on the Mark of Cain. After getting out of Hell, of course. Castiel had filled in some details. “Marcus, huh?” he said, nodding slowly. “Nice pick. You and Lucifer share the trait of ‘no one wants to name their kid after a murderer.’”

“So you know,” Pierce--Cain--said.

“Yeah, I’ve got it now. You’re really old.” The subtle glare did not go undetected. “Still look good, though. Yeah, I never met Cain back home. He died before I uh… got the chance.”

That got Pierce’s attention. “He’s dead?”

Gabriel cast his mind back, dredging up the details he could recall from Castiel's retelling. “Yeah, he got got, as it were. Immortal, sure, but that just means you live forever, not that you can’t be killed.”

“How?”

“First Blade.”

“First what?”

Were the production teams a little off here? “You know. The thing you used to kill Abel?”

Pierce blinked, a look of genuine confusion emerging on his face. “I used a rock…” he said quietly.

Gabriel nodded slowly. The production teams were a little off. “Why are you so curious how he died, anyway?” he asked, suspicious he already knew the answer.

“Did I mention the part about the  _ curse _ of immortality?” That was the answer he had suspected.

“Ah… Well, who put it on? Please tell me it wasn’t Dad--er, God.”

“No, it was Amenadiel, God’s favorite.”

Gabriel narrowed his eyes. “Really? ‘Cause he’s just down the block. Like I ran into him at a chocolate shop a few days ago.”

“I know. Lucifer already asked. He won’t remove it.”

Typical favorites. Michael would have done the same. “Yikes.” He knew what Pierce wanted from him. It didn’t take a genius to know when someone wanted out of a millenia-long existence. After another moment of contemplation, he said, “Would getting rid of it piss off the big G upstairs?”

“It would definitely piss off Amenadiel. I’m not sure how the man upstairs would react. He's a bit... distant here.”

Oh, if only that were true back home. Gabriel dipped his chin and patted the table. “I’ll do it. Pissing off Dad’s favorite is almost as good as the real thing.”

“Wait, what?” The confusion on Pierce’s face was more visible than ever.

“I said I’ll remove your curse of immortality. That’s what you want, right?”

“Yes…”

“So what’s the shock and amazement for? I’m not gonna kill you--unless you do something to deserve it, like the three dickbags in that folder,” Gabriel said, gesturing to the case file. “And no, I don’t count murders that happened at the dawn of time.”

The confusion had not left Pierce’s face. “You can just--you can do that?”

“Well, I don’t know for  _ certain _ ,” Gabriel had to admit. “But, hey--I will sure as hell try.”

Out of habit, Pierce glanced behind him at the one-way mirror and then lowered his voice slightly. “Here? Now?”

Gabriel quirked an eyebrow at him. “Normally, I’d insist you buy me a drink at least, but I don’t think the police chief taking a serial killer out for a beer would look that great.”

Pierce’s expression shifted to a flat glare for a second--an expression Gabriel received quite often from Loki, and one he suspected this universe’s Lucifer received quite often from Pierce. It seemed practiced. Gabriel returned with a similarly practiced smile. “Won’t it take time?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. I don’t know what the curse looks like.”

Pierce shrugged his right arm out of the jacket he wore and rolled up his t-shirt sleeve to reveal an old Marines tattoo. But under the tattoo was a ring of scar tissue about three inches in diameter.

“What am I gonna do, smell it from here?” Gabriel tugged gently at the cuff around his wrist. “Sorry, I’m more hands-on.”

As he had suspected, the police chief was less than enthusiastic to uncuff a serial killer. He pulled the key ring off his belt and held it in his hands. “How do I know you’re an angel? Luci’s got his wings--or his Devil’s face, depending on his emotional stability. What’ve you got, Gabriel the archangel?”

“Haven’t checked for wings yet,” Gabriel admitted, but now he would as soon as he had the space. He loved the universes where he had visible wings instead of the light tricks he normally had at home. “Not sure what you mean by a Devil’s face, either. But here.” He snapped his fingers, and the handcuffs were suddenly unlocked and sitting on the table by Pierce’s arm.

There was a tense moment as Pierce looked between the cuffs and the angel’s freed wrists, but eventually, he must have come to some comforting conclusion that Gabriel wouldn’t do anything too bad. “Nice trick.” It wasn’t exactly a compliment.

“Those are my specialty,” Gabriel replied, settling himself more comfortably in his chair now that his hands were free and the little panicking voice in the back of his mind had gone quiet.

Pierce replaced the key ring on his belt and stood up, shedding his jacket entirely. He gestured at Gabriel, a hint of impatience in his body language. “Fine. Let’s see if you’re any good.”

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” Gabriel said as he stood up. He rounded the table to stand on Pierce’s right.

“I guess all angels have an ego.”

“Nope,” he corrected. “Just the archangels. And a handful of the grunts, but where I come from, that kind of ego is enough to get you killed so--fewer and fewer of those around.” He laid a hand lightly over the round scar, instantly tapping into the divine signature left behind in it. It was like Castiel’s handprint on Dean’s shoulder. Gabriel recognized the presence of the angel--Amenadiel--the one he’d met in the chocolate shop. All things considered, he’d come up against more complex curses. He could unravel it, though; he had faith in that.

When he took his hand away, there was a novel expression of desperation seeping through Pierce’s carefully kept neutrality. “Well?”

“Good news: I can in fact remove it.”

“Bad news?”

“It’s gonna hurt like a son of a bitch, and it won’t be… fast.”

He was met with yet another flat look of exasperation. “I think I can handle it.”

“Right. Just don’t want the detectives rushing in here if they hear you.”

“Leave the detectives to me, and just… take it off.” The impatience radiated from him. Living for thousands of years would do that to a guy.

Gabriel rubbed his hands together. “One mortal, coming up.” He put his hand back over the Mark and began unraveling the divinity embedded into Cain’s humanity.

If Pierce ever made a sign of the pain, Gabriel was too engrossed to notice it. Being in a different universe, the angelic traces of the curse stood out to him easily, but he was unfamiliar in handling it. Fortunately, living with Loki had given him experience with a different kind of magic. He didn’t keep track of how long it took either. It would be done when it was done, and this was some slippery magic here. He wouldn’t have guessed the clueless angel he’d met at the chocolate shop capable of a curse like this. Maybe Dad had given him the blueprints. But, he worked his way through it, and eventually, when he assessed Pierce’s soul--his humanity--it was normal. Well. As normal as it could get after existing for far too long.

Gabriel removed his hand, flexing his fingers. They tingled a little. He could only imagine how Pierce felt, having an angel rummage around in his soul. “Done. You are now as mortal as the rest of them.”

Pierce looked at his arm. He hadn't even broken a sweat. Damn. Gabriel did not want to know what else this man had gone through. “Are you sure?” The ring was still on his arm.

“Hundred percent. Does the scar bother you? I can get rid of it.”

“Please.”

A single touch later, and the scar disappeared from Pierce’s shoulder. He was officially unmarked. He ran a hand over the smooth skin. His whole carriage relaxed.

“I mean, the ultimate test would be to kill you,” Gabriel said. “But I won’t. You could also probably ask Luci or uh… Amenadiel to look you over, as long as the latter isn't going to kill you. Anyway,” he went on, going to back to his chair and sitting down, “now that I’ve done that, I would ask you make a great show of putting me in a holding cell, so I can make a tiny show of getting out, so you can make a great show of not going after me. Deal?”

Pierce’s brow went up. “A deal? Thought that was Lucifer’s thing.”

He blinked. “I guess it is. But what kind of a little brother would I be if I didn’t edge onto his terf a bit?”

“An annoying one.” Right. Cain had been the oldest of… five? Gabriel smiled. But Pierce nodded. “Deal.”


End file.
